Hogwarts, Class of 2024
by Odysseus
Summary: Set after the 'DH' epilogue. Albus Potter's life has always been by the book, but now he will try to find his own way during his 7 years at Hogwarts, with the help of Teddy Lupin, a young professor who struggles to balance between life, love, and duty.
1. Year One: Chapter One

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** This novel is set immediately after the epilogue in "Deathly Hollows," and follows Harry's middle child, Albus Potter, as he begins his first year at Hogwarts, as well as Teddy Lupin's first year as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This work will span all seven years of his time at Hogwarts.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter One**_

Albus Potter stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express, longingly trying to get one last glance of his mother, father, and sister, as they stood on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, waving goodbye to the train.

He had been thinking a lot about the sorting ceremony recently–and the lingering possibility of not being sorted . It's not that he feared his parents would be angry, or even disappointed; he knew nothing like that, even if he was been sorted into Slytherin. He just had always hated it when his parents, his uncles, his grandparents, and even his brother all talked happily about their days in Gryffindor–and he had always wished that, when he went to Hogwarts, he would be able to see what all the fuss was about. But the prospect of being left out of that piece of his family's heritage–no, he wouldn't like that. Think Gryffindor and the Sorting Hat will put you there., he told himself, remembering the advice his father had given him just moments before.

"Do you want a chocolate frog?" asked his cousin, Rose Weasley, as she unearthed a small brown sack from the incredibly large trunk at her feet. It always surprised Albus how much girls–Rose, in particular–needed to pack all the time. But Rose, of course, he reasoned, was about as spoiled as they come; his uncle, Ron, had grown up poor, and wasn't about to deny his only daughter anything she wanted, especially now that Ron–a partner in Weasleys Wizard Wheezes–and Hermione–an influential barrister with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement–were quite well off.

Albus nodded at his cousin, and took one. "Who'd you get on the card?"

"My dad," his cousin answered with a grin. "He always gets so excited when he gets one with himself on it; I'll save it for him."

Albus took the card, looked at the beaming face of a younger Ron Weasley, and turned it over. _Ronald Bilius Weasley, born March 1, 1980, is known for his help in the 1998 defeat of Lord Voldemort at the Battle of Hogwarts, as well as being a co-founder of Dumbledore's Army in 1995. He is currently a co-owner of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, the lucrative joke-item manufacturer, and lives in London with his wife, Hermione Granger–to whom he has been married since 2001, and his two children, Rose and Hugo Weasley._

He handed the card back to Rose, and then unwrapped his own chocolate frog.

"Who's on your card?"

"Godric Gryffindor," Albus replied. He hoped that was a good sign.

"If you get Ptolemy, let me know," she said. "My dad still hasn't gotten one."

The door to their compartment swung open, and a boys, already dressed in Hogwarts robes, stood there. He was quite a bit taller than Albus, a bit thin but with broad shoulders, and with a head of neatly cropped sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He had a big grin on his face.

"Everywhere else is full," he said. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," Rose said. "I'm Rose Weasley, and this is my cousin, Albus Potter."

"I'm Oliver Wood, Jr.," said the boy. "My father's the keeper for Puddlemere United–and he was voted the Most Valuable Player but _Quidditch Monthly_. You must've heard of him. And my mother was Alicia Spinnet who, before she died, was the chaser for the Chudley Cannons. You must've heard of her, too."

Rose nodded a bit, and Albus said nothing; he simply stared at Wood, not quite knowing what to say; the only thing he knew is that he didn't like the boy. Albus had no patience for arrogant people; they reminded him of his brother, James.

"Are you first years?" Wood asked. When they nodded, he continued, "So am I. Where do you want to be sorted? I hope I'm a Gryffindor; both my parents were."

"Ours, too," Rose said.

"But," he said, still grinning, "I wouldn't mind being in Slytherin, because I hear they have the best Quidditch team. They've won the house cup for the last two years." His grin stayed static–if anything, it got wider. "But, I suppose, I could help the Gryffindor team; they sure need it." He looked at Albus. "Is your brother James Potter?"

Albus continued blankly staring at the newcomer–and, after a long pause, nodded slightly.

"He's the only good one on the team," Wood told him. "I've seen them play last year. Do you think you could put in a good word for me? I'd love to be his chaser."

"He's not even the captain."

"I know; McLaggen is–but James is the only third year on the team, so the captain will ask him his opinion on younger players. Could you tell him about me? I'm really good, you know; probably one of the best chasers ever."

Albus only shrugged, and pretended to be deeply enthralled in the Godric Gryffindor chocolate frog card.

-------------------------

Up a bit further on the train, in an empty car, Professor Teddy Lupin stared out the window, as the countryside flew by. He was eighteen–fresh out of Hogwarts, and set upon becoming the youngest Hogwarts professor in seventy-nine years. He nervously fumbled in his bag, searching for his textbooks and his Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson plan. He had read both of them about a thousand times–but he couldn't stop being nervous; he had the terrible image of himself standing up in front of a classroom full of students with nothing to say–or, worse, babbling aimlessly like a clone of Professor Binns.

He didn't notice the door slide open, and he was a bit startled when he saw the shadow of a woman come over him.

"Professor Delacour!" he gasped, when he saw the beautiful face of Professor Gabrielle Delacour, the twenty-nine year old potions mistress. He knew Gabrielle quite well–she had been his potions teacher for the last three years, and she was his girlfriend's aunt, after all. But Gabrielle, being just as close to Victoire's age than she was to Fleur's, meant that she was more than an aunt; she was more like a good friend.

"Teddy," Gabrielle said, as she sat down. "You can call me Gabrielle now. We're coworkers; I don't want any of that teacher-student formality anymore, understood?" When he nodded, she continued, "I thought you'd be nervous, so I brought you some sweets from the cart." She handed him a small brown bag, which Teddy took, a bit of a half-smile on his face.

"Thank you," he said. "And you're right; I am nervous."

"We've all been there," she told him. "You'll do fine, Teddy; you were at the top of your class last year, and do you really think that Charlie would have given you the position if she didn't think you were ready for it?"

"I don't know. I guess not. But what if Charlie is wrong?"

"He won't be," Gabrielle replied. "I know you'll do wonderful."

The door slid open again, and Professor Neville Longbottom, the Herbology professor, deputy headmaster, and head of Gryffindor House, stood there.

"I thought I saw you come in here," Neville said, sitting down to Gabrielle. "Well, I thought you were in the compartment back, but I accidentally walked in on a group of third year Hufflepuff girls changing." He grew red, as Gabrielle laughed and Teddy cracked a slight smile.

"The rest of the faculty says that Neville is the king of awkward situations," Gabrielle explained. "You'll learn that quickly." She looked to Neville, and mouthed, "He's nervous."

"Don't be nervous, Teddy," Neville said, as Gabrielle slowly shook her head at him. "Your first day can't be worse than mine."

"No? What happened?"

"We were in the Great Hall, and McGonagall–she was headmistress then, before Charlie Weasley–introduced me as the new Herbology professor, so I stood up–and then I slipped and face planted into a bowl of bread pudding."

His face went even redder, as both Teddy and Gabrielle began to laugh.

"See?" Gabrielle said. "Even if you have a bad day–it could always be worse. And everyone loves Neville. But, more importantly, you have us to help you out–and you have Victoire. She's only a sixth year; she'll be here for you, too."

Teddy smiled as his two coworkers, and assured himself that everything would be all right

-------------------------

The Hogwarts Express stopped, and the first years were corralled onto the fleet of boats at the edge of the lake. Albus looked in awe at the castle, which loomed powerfully overhead.

"I can't believe this is it," Rose whispered. "It looks so scary."

Albus grinned at her. "I think it looks incredible."

Rose, Albus, and Oliver stepped into the same boat, and joined by another boy that Rose and Albus knew all too well–Scorpius Malfoy. He was every bit his father's son; he was a handsome boy, with short blonde hair, a rather long, pointed face, and two piercing blue eyes–all coupled with the trusted Malfoy arrogance and the personality of a dementor.

"You want to be a Slytherin?" Oliver asked Scorpius. Scorpius nodded coolly. "That's cool. I wouldn't mind being a Slytherin, I guess, but my parents really want me to be a Gryffindor. You've probably heard of my dad, Oliver Wood? The Quidditch player?"

Albus, by this point, had mentally checked out of the conversation, instead opting to run his hand in the water alongside the boat, as he looked up, studying the castle on top of the hill. His heart was pounding quickly now, and he suddenly had the image of himself sharing a dingy, stone Slytherin bedroom with Scorpius and Oliver, while Rose and James and everyone in their families ran through the grounds proudly displaying their Gryffindor colors.

"Are you doing okay?" Rose asked quietly.

"What if I'm in Slytherin?"

"You'll do fine there," she said. "If that's where the put you, that's the best fit then, isn't it?"

"You're going to be in Gryffindor; I know it."

"I don't know," she said. "I'm not very brave."

"Me either."

Albus paused for a bit; Oliver was still talking, boasting, to a bored-looking Scorpius in the front of the boat. He turned to Rose. "I hope Oliver isn't in my house."

"Why not?" she asked. "He's not a bad guy–and he's cute, too." She giggled a bit–then abruptly stopped when Oliver turned around. After he went back to telling Scorpius his life story, Rose continued, "My wand is rosewood. I could be, too."

Albus smiled at her pun. "But, really, you like him?"

"I'm just kidding," Rose said. "But he's not a bad guy–maybe a little arrogant."

"That's an understatement."

The boats stopped, and Albus saw Professor Charlie Weasley, the headmaster of Hogwarts, standing proudly as they disembarked, his fiery red hair parted neatly underneath his black wizard's hat. "First years!" he called. "Follow me up to the castle."

They did as they were told–and they were led into a small chamber off the Great Hall. Albus could hear voices outside the door, a loud ruckus that seemed to echo in the cavernous hall. The other students were there already–and Albus hoped that they wouldn't be sorted in front of everyone; he could vividly imagine the look of disappointment on James's face when the hat shouted "Slytherin" for the world to hear, and Albus would have to go sit among all the shady characters he knew lived in that house. Maybe, he thought, he could leave if he got sorted into Slytherin; Beauxbatons didn't start until next week, and with his father's clout, maybe he could get a spot last minute. No, no–that wouldn't work. Albus simply bit his lip, and kept repeating, inside his head, the word, "Gryffindor."

The first years were led, single file and in alphabetical order, out into the Great Hall. Albus focused on nothing but the old hat, set casually on an old, three-legged stool, in the middle of the room, in front of the high table, where the professors sat.

Neville stood there next to the stool, eyeing the line of first years. He smiled when his eyes met Albus's, but Albus didn't smile back; he was far too focused on not being sorted into Slytherin.

"When I call your name," Neville said, "please step forward, sit on the stool, and put on the hat." He cleared his throat, pulled out a piece of parchment. "Ackerley, Amanda."

"Ravenclaw!"

"Bones, Lane."

"Gryffindor!"

"Carrow, Katherine."

"Gryffindor!"

And so on and so forth. Albus wasn't especially interested in anyone else; he was still muttering, "Gryffindor" to himself, and now he was looking at his older brother, who was smiling proudly, as he flirted with an attractive Gryffindor fifth year. Albus had decided long ago that, if he could be like anyone else, it would be James. Sure, Albus had inherited the same raven hair and good looks as James, and was the brains in the family–though James was by no means unintelligent–but James was so carefree, popular, suave, and athletic. Albus was none of those things; he freely admitted that he didn't have the athletic abilities of his mother, brother, or father, and he was high strung, neurotic, and quite shy in just about every situation. Yes–if he could be more like anyone, it would be James.

"MacDougal, Samuel."

"Slytherin!"

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

"Slytherin!"

Albus, once again, tuned out Neville's name-reading, and turned to the Slytherin table, where MacDougal and Malfoy had gone over. They didn't look like too bad of a bunch–better than Albus had expected–and he knew that, as a pure-blood, he wouldn't have trouble fitting in–but he knew, still, that he didn't want to be any place other than Gryffindor.

"Potter, Albus."

Albus almost missed his name–but he slowly stepped forward, picked up the hat, and sat down. The last thing he saw was his brother's brown eyes, fixed on him, and James's lips slowly mouthing, "Gryffindor."

"Not Slytherin?" the hat whispered to Albus. "That's the same thing I said to your father. He's right, you know; if you don't want to be a Slytherin, you shouldn't be a Slytherin. Hufflepuff? No, no, not right. Ravenclaw? Perhaps. You're an awfully smart boy, you know. You'd do well in Ravenclaw. No? Still no? All right, I guess that leaves only one choice.

"Gryffindor!"

Albus almost leapt up from his seat in excitement–but, knowing that he was in front of the school, he contained his emotion–though, of course, he was still smiling so widely it looked as if he had stuffed a coat hanger in his mouth, as he proudly marched to the Gryffindor table.

James stood up as Albus approached, hugged his younger brother, and ushered him to the seat next to him.

"I saved you a seat," James said, "right next to me. I knew you'd be a Gryffindor."

"But you spent the whole summer telling me I would be a Slytherin!"

"I was messing with you," James grinned. "What are older brothers for? You know no one wanted you in Gryffindor more than I did."

Albus looked up at his brother, still smiling. "Thanks."

James was no longer paying attention; he had gone back to flirting with the blonde Gryffindor on the other side of him, so Albus, too, turned to his other side, where a brown-haired first year, very Irish looking, sat, staring wide-eyed at the sorting ceremony.

"I'm Albus Potter," he said to the boy. The boy's eyes darted quickly to Albus, and he smiled.

"I'm Brendan Finnigan. I think our dads went to school together."

Albus opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly turned back to the ceremony, as Neville had said, "Weasley, Rose."

The hat sure was taking a long time with Rose–but she didn't seem at all concerned; she stood, a smile on her half-covered face, facing the Gryffindor table. The hat finally hollered, "Gryffindor!" and she stood up, and took her place at the table next to Murphy. The three of them continued to watch, as the very next name was, "Wood, Oliver."

The hat barely touched his head–his eyes hadn't even been covered–when it yelled, "Gryffindor!"

Oliver looked pretty proud of himself, as he sauntered over to the cheering Gryffindor table, a knowing smile on his face. He didn't waste any time; he grabbed a chair, and wedged it between James and Albus.

James turned to see the disruption, saw Oliver sitting there, and said, "Oh, hello."

"Hello," Oliver said. "I'm Oliver Wood, Jr. You've probably heard of my father…"

"Now that everyone's been sorted," Charlie shouted, as everyone quieted down, "I would like to take this time to introduce the staff." He motioned towards the professors sitting behind her at the high table.

"Professor Binns, History of Magic."

The ghost stood up, bowed his head, and sat back down.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures."

Hagrid, like Binns, stood up–but, a little tipsy off of the port wine from the enormous goblet in front of him–hiccupped once, giggled, and sat down.

Charlie looked back at Hagrid, then turned back to the crowd, looking a bit embarrassed–his ears, like everyone else in his family, turned a bit red–but he continued anyway. "Luna Lovegood, Divination and Head of Ravenclaw House; Neville Longbottom; Herbology, Head of Gryffindor House, and Deputy Headmaster; Gabrielle Delacour, Potions; Justin Finch-Fletchley, Charms and Head of Hufflepuff House; Pansy Parkinson, Astronomy and Head of Slytherin House; and, a new addition to our staff, Teddy Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Teddy stood up, smiled, and bowed his head–amidst the catcalls and yelling that echoed from the older Gryffindor students–his former classmates.

"Thank you," Charlie said, "and may I be the first to welcome you all to Hogwarts for another wonderful year. And now–we eat."


	2. Year One: Chapter Two

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Two**_

Teddy sat in his office, nervously shuffling papers–and he jumped when the door opened. His girlfriend, Victoire Weasley, stood there, dressed in her Gryffindor robes. She was beautiful–every bit her mother, with long, silvery blonde hair, a beautiful smile, and bewitching eyes. The sixteenth veela blood in her–scarcely anything, genetically–still shined through her face; she could entrance and trap any man she wanted, and Teddy felt lucky just to be with her.

"Excuse me, professor," she said, a joking smile on her face. "I think I need some help bringing up my grade in your class."

Teddy smiled at her. "You're already sleeping with the professor–what more can you do?"

She ran over to him, kissed him softly on the lips, and then sat down on his lap. "I wanted to do that all morning."

"Really?" he grinned. "I've missed you. It's so much harder to see you, now that I'm living in the faculty tower, and I'm in my office all day, and–"

She put her finger to his mouth, shushing him, and whispered, "Don't talk." With that, she ran her finger down his chest, slowly undoing buttons as she went, and he pulled her into a deep kiss.

There was a sharp knock on the door, and then it opened. Victoire jumped up as fast as a pizie, and quickly wiped her mouth. Neville stood there, a look of horror on his face. "Oh, God," he said. "I'm sorry–I didn't mean–I'm sorry. Oh, shit."

"I thought you were Charlie," Teddy said, as he quickly buttoned up his shirt. "You scared me."

"What's wrong with Charlie?"

"Nothing–I'm just not allowed to do stuff with a student. It's against the bylaws."

Victoire rolled her eyes. "But he knows about us. I don't see what the big deal is."

"I'm a new teacher," Teddy replied, "and rules are rules." He was suddenly aware that Neville was still there, so he turned back to the herbology professor, and said, "What did you need, Neville?"

"They're having a faculty luncheon in one of the dungeons in an hour," Neville said meekly. "I just wanted to see if you were going."

"Of course," said Teddy. "I'll be down there in a minute." He gave Victoire an offhanded grin and then said, to no one in particular, "There's just something I have to do first."

-------------------------

Meanwhile, in one of the lower dungeons, Gabrielle had a class–first year double-potions, with the Gryffindors and Slytherins. And they were segregated just like that. Gabrielle had a philosophy–no doubt inspired by the fact that Beauxbatons, her alma mater, didn't have houses–that, from an early age, students shouldn't be taught to discriminate against people from other houses. And, of course, Gryffindors and Slytherins would be taught by everyone–their heads of houses and older students–to hate each other the most; Gabrielle, as a result, assigned partnerships, consisting of one Slytherin and one Gryffindor.

Wonderful, thought Albus; he was paired with Scorpius Malfoy–that smug little know-it-all.

"The recipe for the forgetfulness potion is on page 327," Albus said to Scorpius. "Wait, what are you doing?"

While Albus was flipping pages, Scorpius had already begun to drop some things into the cauldron.

"I know what I'm doing," Scorpius explained. "Relax, would you? I'm great at potions; you'll see." He prepared to put in a handful of bat eyes–but Albus quickly stopped him.

"It says here just a half-handful of bat eyes, Malfoy. Damn it, how stupid are you?"

Scorpius turned beat red, and reached over, ripped the page out of the textbook, then threw it into the cauldron. "I guess we'll have to do it my way, now, won't we?" he said, with a smug smile. He dropped the whole handful of bat eyes into the cauldron–and the cauldron began to bubble ferociously, giving off a thick black smoke.

Gabrielle raced over to the coffin. "What happened here, boys?"

"Scorpius is being a prick," Albus said, "and he wouldn't follow any directions."

"If you weren't so controlling, maybe–"

Albus stepped forward, gave Scorpius a good shove–and then the Malfoy boy turned on the Gryffindor, shoving him back.

"Enough!" Gabrielle gasped, as she stepped in between them. "Both of you, five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and I want to see you in my office tonight for detention."

-------------------------

Gabrielle had just finished recounting the story to Neville and Teddy at the faculty luncheon.

"That doesn't sound like Albus," Teddy said slowly. "It sounds like James, though."

Neville grinned. "So true."

"Detention on the first day of classes, though," Gabrielle said. "I really hate doing that."

With this, Professor Justin Finch-Fletchley, the charms master, came running into the room–which, of course, went quiet, as all the professors looked up at him.

"Special edition of the _Daily Prophet_," he said, as he rummaged in his robes for a slightly crumbled newspaper. On the front cover was a gaunt, brooding man, with stringy hair and hollow eyes–holding an Azkaban number card. He was scowling but simultaneously looked like he was laughing a bit–quite a hard feat. His figure was changing back and forth into a werewolf–and the headline, underneath the picture, read "Fenrir Greyback Escapes from Azkaban." Further on the front page was an editorial–"Bring the Dementors Back to Azkaban"–and the results of the Eight-Hundred-and-Fifty-Third Annual Londonderry Flobberworm Race.

Teddy said nothing; he only stared at the picture a bit, and tried to force the overwhelming rush of stories he had heard about his father from his mind. This man, Teddy concluded, was pure evil–bloodthirsty even when in human form, even when he could help it.

Charlie Weasley took the newspaper, feeling the same rush of personal anger that Teddy felt, and quickly skimmed the article. "It seems," he said, "that there's a double-agent in Azkaban–and they let Greyback walk right out the front door without anyone noticing." He shook his head, put the newspaper down, and stood up. "I need to send an owl," he said. "Excuse me."

Undoubtedly to Bill, Teddy thought. He would want to know, after all.

-------------------------

Scorpius and Albus, that evening, met each other outside of Gabrielle's office in one of the upper dungeons. They knocked on the door, and a voice told them to enter–but Gabrielle wasn't there; Teddy sat in her chair, reading the _Evening Prophet_–following the developing story on Fenrir Greyback.

"Hello, boys," he said coldly. "Professor Delacour has had a bit of a family situation to attend to tonight, and I'm taking her place." He gave a bit of a thin smile–a quick attempt to hide the fact that Gabrielle had sprung this detention on him last minute, and he had no idea what he was going to make them do.

"What sort of situation, Teddy?" Albus asked.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Teddy snapped. "I would've told you if I thought you should know, Potter."

Albus glared at the man that was like a brother to him, and muttered, "All right, Professor Lupin."

Teddy fixed that thin smile back onto his face, and said, "Let's go to my office, shall we? I don't like the dungeons at night."

A shadow came over them from up ahead, and the unmistakable figure of Argus Filch, holding a purring and elderly Mrs. Norris gently in his arms, appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Filch!" Teddy called. "I need you for a second."

The caretaker glared at him; he didn't like new professors, and he certainly didn't like this one–four months ago, Teddy was just another snot-nosed prankster, and now Filch was supposed to take orders from him. No, he didn't like that; he didn't like that one bit.

"Yes, professor?" he sneered.

"These two boys have a detention for Professor Delacour," he said, "and I have nothing planned for them. I was wondering if you might have anything in mind."

"I'm going to the forest," Filch said, "to gather ingredients for some potion that Professor Weasley is making." He grinned maliciously at the two petrified first years, and said, "I'd love to have some help."

Teddy looked at the two boys and, after a pause, said, "All right. Take them with you."

Filch looked like Christmas had come early–but Albus had a look of indignation on his face, as he glared up at Teddy. Teddy saw the glare, pretended he didn't see it, and casually began intensively studying a crack in the rock that reminded him a bit of the Burrow.

"I can't believe we have to go into the forest," Scorpius muttered, as the duo was led away by Filch. "If my father hears about this, he's going to murder someone."

"I wouldn't put murder past your father," Albus whispered back. "He's a dark wizard, my dad said, but not a very good one; did you know that, at the Battle of Hogwarts, my dad saved your dad's life?"

"That's a lie, Potter, and you know it."

"I swear, it's true."

"Is making up stories your way of pretending that you're not a black sheep in the Potter family?"

Albus's jaw dropped a bit, and he finally managed a choked out, "What?"–though it, of course, was nowhere near as nonchalant as he had hoped.

"Your parents and your brother were all Quidditch heroes," he said, "and they were all popular, and brave, and everyone seems to like them a lot." He gave a smug smile, knowing that he had somehow gotten under Albus's skin. "But you're none of those things, are you? You're just average–not at all fitting for a Potter. And certainly not fitting for a Gryffindor."

Albus would have punched the Malfoy boy right then and there–but Filch was standing there, and the last thing he wanted was another detention; he, instead, tried to tune out Malfoy's insults, look straight ahead, and swallow his anger. Scorpius gave a bit of a laugh, knowing he had won. Albus didn't say anything.

They stopped by Filch's office, where a small girl–another Gryffindor first year, Albus recognized–stood there. She was quite pretty, with long black hair, tied into a neat braid; two darting, seductive, intelligent grey eyes; and an attractive, pale, patrician face.

"I caught Carrow, here, trying to sneak into the forest," Filch said, with another one of his malicious grins. "I bet you won't be too brave, now that we're going in at night, will you, girlie?" He let out a vicious laughter, and then continued down the corridor, the three first years following behind him.

"You're Rose's cousin, aren't you?" the girl asked Albus. When he nodded, she replied, "She sleeps in the bed next to me. I'm Katie, Katie Carrow."

"Carrow, huh?" Scorpius grinned. "So you're Alecto Carrow's granddaughter, aren't you? I've heard about you. Who are your parents?"

"I've never seen my parents," she said quietly. "They died right after I was born–and I was raised by my grandmother." She looked a bit embarrassed, and then turned away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fine," Albus said. "But why were you trying to sneak into the forest today?"

"It's a cold night tonight!" Katie suddenly announced. "I wish I had brought my woolen cloak–but I didn't think it would get this cold in September."

They said nothing more to each other, as they neared the edge of the forest.


	3. Year One: Chapter Three

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** I received a couple questions and reviews that I'd like to answer. First, yes; Amycus and Alecto Carrow are, in fact, brother and sister, and that was a slip up on my part. It's been fixed. And second, this isn't quite going to be the typical "three best friends: a girl and two boys." Though things will change in later years, for right now, the group of friends is Albus, Rose, Oliver, Brendan, and Katie. But, like I said, there will be changes as events unfold. Anyway, thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**_**  
Year One**_

_**Chapter Three**_

"But what did they make you do?" Oliver asked, as he stuffed his face full of a rather large slab of chocolate cake. "I've never been on detention."

"Nothing," Albus said. "We just had to help Filch collect some sort of roots, or something–I don't know why he needs it." He paused, looked over to Rose. "Do you know Katie Carrow?"

"I do," Rose replied. "She's my roommate."

"What do you think of her?"

"Nice girl," Rose said, after a bit of a pause. "A little odd."

"Odd?"

"No, not odd. She's just secretive, I guess. She's nice, though."

"You think everyone's nice," Albus answered.

"No–no, I don't."

"There's something about her," Albus said. "Do you know she was born in Azkaban?"

"They've let that place get too nice," Oliver said. "They need to bring the dementors back."

"What a terrible thing to say," Albus replied. "That's torture; they represent everything bad about the Ministry that my dad spent the last nineteen years trying to stamp out."

"The wizard who killed my mum is in Azkaban," Oliver said quietly, "and I don't fancy the thought of him getting conjugal visits with his wife, thank you."

"Who killed your mum?" Albus asked.

"I have my Qudditch tryout today," Oliver announced. "Are you two going to come and watch?"

Albus and Rose exchanged nervous, disinterested glances–but Oliver didn't seem to notice.

"James is going to love me," he continued. "I can't wait to send an owl to my dad, telling him that I made the Gryffindor team as a first year! My dad loves Quidditch, more than anything." He paused for a moment, and he let his grin fall for a second–but then, without missing a beat, he slung it back onto his face. "He'll be so proud of me. I can't wait."

-------------------------

Gabrielle stepped out of the fireplace in the faculty common room, and headed towards the spiral staircase leading to the bedrooms–but, before she got to her room, she saw that the door to Teddy's room was ajar. She headed over, to thank him for dealing with the young Potter and Malfoy's detention.

Teddy sat on his bed, putting on a pair of faded black socks, and didn't notice Gabrielle standing in the doorway. She surveyed the room a bit–it was smaller than the others, because Teddy was a new teacher, but still comfortable; along the rear wall, there was a large four-poster bed–which took up most of the room–and had a small leather sofa at its foot, facing an ornately carved fireplace on the opposite wall. The whole room was dark; Teddy hadn't opened the windows–but Gabrielle could make out a number of pictures hung on the wall, all pictures of either the Potters or his late parents, Nymphadora and Remus Lupin.

Gabrielle cleared her throat, and Teddy looked up.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, "for covering me last night."

Teddy nodded, then sighed. "It wasn't easy; you should've seen the look Albus gave me."

"You're a teacher, now," she said. "And he's your student–and, you know, you can't cross that line."

"How do I even know where the line is?"

"That's for you to decide," she replied. "Teachers have to blur the line between authority figure and friend; they have to be both, but not too much of one or the other."

"Sounds wonderful," he said sarcastically.

"You can do it," she said. She let out a yawn. "I'm sorry," she said. "I should really get to my room; I have an hour before my first class, and that's enough time for a nap; I didn't sleep last night."

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"To my sister's," she said. "Bill was rushed to St. Mungo's."

Teddy stared at her, open-mouthed, and asked why.

"Fenrir Greyback," she said, "came to Shell Cottage, and thought he'd finish the job on Bill."

"Did he?"

"No. He hit Bill with a couple of hexes–he'll be okay, of course, in a couple of days–but then Fleur came outside, and scared the lot of them away with a Patronus."

"The lot of them?"

"Yes. Greyback and a team of dementors." She shook her head. "I thought we were done with this."

"You can kill You-Know-Who," Teddy said, "but his followers are evil through and through, with or without him at the helm." He grinned a bit. "My parents were aurors, and my godfather is one too; it's people like them that put food on the table for us, at least."

Gabrielle gave a weak grin. "I suppose so. The world always needs aurors, as long as there are Dark wizards out there." She yawned again. "But I have to sleep now," she said, "if I want to be able to teach a full load of classes today." She bid the younger professor goodbye, and went back to her room.

-------------------------

That evening, the Quidditch pitch was filled with excitable Gryffindors–each one of them thinking that they were the world's greatest answer to what had been, for the last several years, a lackluster Quidditch.

Oliver hovered several feet off the ground on his Nimbus 5000, towering a bit above Albus Potter and Brendan Finnigan–who had dragged Albus along to the tryout ("He's your friend and he really wants you there"). Rose, meanwhile, had gone off earlier in the day with Katie Carrow, and was conveniently nowhere to be found in Gryffindor tower when it was time to go to the Quidditch pitch.

"Are you nervous at all?" Brendan asked Oliver.

Oliver said nothing; he just continued to hover, his eyes closed. He looked like he was in some sort of trance–but then he quickly snapped out of it when he registered Brendan's voice, and he put on a nervous smile. "No, of course not. Why wouldn't I make the team?"

-------------------------

Professor Justin Finch-Fletchley stood in the faculty common room, waiting for Gabrielle to come upstairs; she had a late NEWT potions class, he knew, but she really should be back by now. He took a watch out of his pocket, clicked his tongue a bit, and then put it back into his robes.

Neville came down the spiral staircase.

"Good evening, Justin," Neville said. "Are you waiting for someone?"

"For Gabrielle," Justin said. "I wanted to ask her–oh, well–you don't happen to know if she's seeing anyone, do you?"

Neville gave his colleague a knowing smile. Sitting down on the overstuffed sofa next to Justin, he said, "I don't think she is–and she would've told me, I'm sure."

"I know," he said. "You two are awfully close." He narrowed his eyes a bit, and studied Neville's face for a moment.

"There's nothing between Gabrielle and I," Neville said, "if that's what you're thinking."

"Well, I couldn't be sure."

"Nothing," Neville repeated. "We're just good friends."

"That's probably true," Justin replied. "I mean, everyone knows you have a thing for Luna, anyway."

Neville looked a bit taken aback by that comment. "What are you talking about?"

There was a long pause–quite awkward for the both of them–and Justin finally said the only thing he could think of–"Oh."

"Luna is also a good friend of mine," Neville explained. "I do not have feelings for her in any way. Besides, I don't think it's appropriate to date another member of the faculty–I mean, we're not hormonal seventh years. We should be able to control ourselves."

"Have you been reading the _Prophet_?" Justin asked. "They still haven't found Fenrir Greyback–but he attacked Bill Weasley last night, with a team of dementors."

"I heard," Neville said. "Thankfully, Bill's all right–but Greyback got away. I wonder where he could be going next."

"I think we know the answer to that," Justin said. "Grimmauld Place."

"To Harry Potter?"

"Well," Justin said, "the way I see it, Greyback's going to hit everyone he has a grudge with. The Weasleys, Shacklebolt, the Figgs–but who could he hold a bigger grudge against than Harry Potter?"

-------------------------

A bit over a week later, Albus ran into his brother in the corridor outside the Great Hall. Albus was returning from class, but he knew James didn't have any classes on Tuesdays–and, not being mealtime, had no business being around the Great Hall.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

James looked over at his brother, then smiled. "McLaggen asked me to post the Quidditch list today."

"Is that the team?"

"Sure is," James said, "and it should be better than ever." He pursed his lips a bit, and lowered his voice. "Of course, we couldn't get much worse than we were last year. We lost to Hufflepuff–Hufflepuff!–by two hundred points. It was dreadful." He stuck the list onto the wall. "It's an old team, though; we'll have to recruit fresh next year."

"An old team?"

James frowned a bit. "Your friend–Oliver, is it?"

"Yes."

"He didn't make the cut."

Albus said nothing; he only looked at the piece of parchment, as if hoping that James had made some sort of mistake–but he didn't. The name Oliver Wood, Jr., appeared nowhere on the list–except at the bottom, where they listed the third-string reserve team.

"He's going to be crushed," Albus said.

"Well," James said, "he's only a first year, you know. He can't expect to make the team, no matter who his father is. He just wasn't good enough yet."

He spotted a crowd of older Ravenclaw witches–and, with a sly smile, he said goodbye to his brother, and then went chasing after the girls.

Albus was about to leave, too, when he saw Oliver running down the opposite corridor, a huge smile on his face. "Did they post it?" he asked, practically jumping up and down. "Is that the list?" He ran up to it, put his hand to the rough parchment, and traced his finger down to the line marked Seeker.

Albus watched from about ten feet away–and he couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. There he was, standing near the wall, surrounded by the crowd of people who were checking the list and celebrating, cheering, "I made it! I made it!" And poor Oliver looked as if he was doing everything he could to keep from crying in the middle of the corridor.

And then, just when he looked like he was about to burst, he turned and sprinted down the corridor.


	4. Year One: Chapter Four

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Four**_

"Are you all right?" Albus asked, as he walked over to Oliver's part of the room. Oliver had the four poster nearest to the window, next to Albus, and his area was covered from floor to ceiling with Quidditch posters, most of them of his father in full Puddlemere United regalia. No one else was in the room, not even their other roommates Luke Macmillan, Jordan Thomas, and Brendan Finnigan. Albus considered that lucky; he doubted Oliver would want anyone to see him lying on his bed, his face buried in his pillow.

Oliver pretended her was asleep; he began snoring a bit–but Albus saw through the rouse, and poked his back with his wand.

"Oliver, I know what happened–and it sucks, but it's not the end of the world."

Oliver sat up quickly, wiped his nose and eyes–which were bloodshot; he had been crying for quite a while. "It's the end of my world," he said softly. "My father lives and breathes Quidditch, don't you know that?"

"He'll understand," Albus replied. "Even your dad didn't make the Quidditch team as a first year."

"No," Oliver agreed, "but he didn't make third-string reserve, either. Do you realize how many seekers will have to be injured before I'm allowed to play?" He smiled a bit ironically, a bit bitterly. "You know, the only time my dad is proud of me is when I play Quidditch."

"I'm sure he's proud of you loads of times."

"Never," Oliver repeated. "When I got into Hogwarts, the first thing he said to me was, 'There'll be a Quidditch Cup with your name on it by the end of the year.'" He shook his head in shame, and then added, "I guess he was wrong."

"Oh, come off it," Albus said. "If he's not proud of you because you didn't make the team as a first year–which no one does anyway–then that's his problem. I'd be proud of you; you're a good guy, you know?"

There was a pause. "Do you think you could talk to James about getting me on the team?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Oliver–he doesn't have any power over that sort of thing. And the list has already been posted; it's too late."

"I guess you're right," he replied. "Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"Just for being here," he said, "and talking to me. No one's done that to me before."

"Talked to you?"

"Not like this," he said. "Not when I'm upset. I'm sorry you had to see me cry."

"I didn't," Albus said.

Oliver grinned a bit. "I guess you didn't–but you knew I had been."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said. "It's not your fault. If you're not good enough, you're not good enough." He gave a bit of a thin smile, and said, "I think I'm going to go write my father now."

-------------------------

"Someone's dressed up," Neville said, as he came into Gabrielle's room. "Planning a romantic evening with a certain charms professor?"

"Justin told you?" she grinned. When Neville nodded, she said, "I don't think it'll be romantic. Justin's nice, and all, but do you really think he's my type?"

"Not really," Neville admitted. "But you can get a free meal out of him."

"That's my plan," she replied, with a joking grin on her face.

Neville paused a bit, then said, "Do you think I have a crush on Luna? Justin said everyone thinks I do."

Gabrielle looked at him, bit her lip, then went back to looking at herself in the mirror.

"I don't!" he exclaimed.

"There's no shame in asking her out," Gabrielle said, "if you really like her, you know."

"I don't."

"Well, if you don't, don't bother with it," she said. "Have you seen Teddy? I wanted to say goodnight to him; he's had a rough day, I think."

"What happened?"

"He brought in a barrel of pixies–and that little punk, Scorpius Malfoy, made the damned thing explode. Pixies, everywhere; Teddy couldn't stun them fast enough. He was so embarrassed; everyone was talking about it."

"Poor guy," Neville said. "But I don't think he's in his room. I just knocked on his door."

There was a knock on the door, and Justin appeared there, wearing dark blue dress robes, and holding a bouquet of flowers. "Are you ready, Gabrielle?"

Gabrielle smiled, then looked to Neville. "I'll see you later."

-------------------------

Teddy sat at the bar in the Three Broomsticks, holding his head in his hands. "Give me another firewhisky."

The bartender, Christy Rosmerta–the twentysomething daughter of Madam Rosmerta–rolled her eyes, and continued cleaning off the counter; being a Tuesday night, Teddy was the only one in the pub–and, by this point, he had quite a few drinks already. "I think you've had enough, Professor Lupin."

"Just one more," Teddy begged, without raising his head. "I've had an awful day."

The door swung open–and a wide-eyed Oliver stood there, holding Albus's invisibility cloak in hand.

"Professor!" he gasped.

"Wood," grunted Teddy. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I–" he began. "I came out for a drink."

"First years aren't allowed in Hogsmeade," Teddy replied. "I'm going to have to report you–" He stopped when he saw the dejection in the young Wood's face. "But I won't."

"You won't?"

Teddy stood up, stumbled a bit, and was suddenly very aware of his face. He gave a bit of a crooked smile, and staggered over his student. "I'm not supposed to get drunk in front of students either," he said, "and I'm quite drunk–so why don't we make tonight our little secret?"

Oliver gave a thin smile. "All right," he replied. "Can you buy me a drink?"

Teddy smiled at him as well, and gave a bit of a laugh. "That would be no, Wood. But I'll walk you back to the castle if you'd like."

The student's smile grew a bit larger, and he nodded. "Do you need help, Professor?"

Teddy shook his head, grabbing onto chairs, and then the doorframe as the two of them left the Three Broomsticks. "I'm fine." He hiccupped loudly, but felt a little better when he got outside.

"Where'd you get that cloak, anyway?"

"It's Albus's."

"I know that," Teddy said with a grin. "It belonged to his father–and Harry didn't want to give it to James, because he knew he would use it to cause mischief. I meant where did you get it tonight?"

"Albus keeps it in his trunk," Oliver said, "and I just wanted to borrow it–to go get a drink."

"Do you drink often?"

"No. Well, not since–never mind. No, I don't. But I thought I could use it tonight."

"What's bothering you, Wood?"

"I didn't make the Quidditch team," he said. "And I went to the owlery to tell my father–but, as I wrote the letter, I could tell him. So I lied–and I told him I'm seeker." He looked a bit sheepish, and then looked away rather quickly.

"You shouldn't have done that," Teddy said. "But life's full of things you wish you hadn't done. What defines us isn't the sum of our stupidity, but the courage we yield when confronted by our stupidity." He grinned a bit, pursed his lips–he rather liked the oversensitive feeling. "I don't even know if that made sense."

"No, it made perfect sense," said Oliver. "And thank you. No one's ever put it quite like that before."

"Glad I could help. I'm quite the drunk philosopher, I suppose. Philosopher. There's a funny word."

They had, by this point, reached the edge of the grounds.

"Cloak on, Wood," Teddy said, "and go straight to Gryffindor tower, would you? I don't want you to get either of us into any trouble tonight."

Oliver gave the professor an admiring smile, and disappeared beneath the invisibility cloak.


	5. Year One: Chapter Five

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**C**__**hapter Five**_

Though the weather grew steadily colder, the students–and the professors–had settled into their life at Hogwarts. Everything was normal–well, as normal as it could be at Hogwarts.

Headmaster Weasley had outdone himself on the decorations for the feast this year; the Great Hall was filled with big pumpkins, copious amounts of cobwebs on the rafters, several singing skeletons, and a firework show projected on the night sky of the ceiling.

Albus and Oliver, in the middle of a large clump of first years, could see it all from the foyer, as they ran down the marble staircase.

"It looks so cool," Albus whispered. "Do you think they do this every year?"

Oliver grinned. "Of course they do, Albus. Halloween is big at Hogwarts–didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

They took their spots at the Gryffindor table, where Rose was already seated, sitting alone.

"You haven't seen Katie, have you?" she asked, as they approached. "She said she'd meet me here, and I haven't seen her anywhere."

Oliver squinted into the distance. "Isn't that her?"

Katie Carrow was, indeed, coming through the grand doors into the Great Hall. She spotted her friends, and immediately came over to the table. They were happy to see her–until they saw that she was a bit dirty, disheveled, and there were a couple of twigs and leaves in her black hair.

"Where were you?" Rose asked–trying to hide her suspicion. "You're covered in dirt."

"I–fell," Katie said quickly, with a voice that Albus knew she was lying. "I was coming up from the lake, and I fell."

Albus narrowed his eyes at her, but Rose and Oliver seemed to accept this excuse. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted when Brendan Finnigan came to the table.

"There you all are," he said, taking a seat. "I haven't seen you anywhere." He looked at Albus. "Have you read the _Prophet _today? Your father's on the cover."

Albus grabbed the newspaper from him, and unfolded it. Sure enough, on the front page was a large picture of Harry Potter, evidently giving a speech on the steps of the Ministry building.

**Potter Confirms Thomas Carrow's Escape from Azkaban**

_by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_

_LONDON– Harry Potter, head of the Ministry's Department of Aurors, famed Dark wizard catcher, international celebrity, and former troubled youth–more information in the _Daily Prophet_ #1 bestselling biography, _Harry Potter: Hero or Just Lucky?, _by Rita Skeeter–has confirmed speculation that there has been a second break out from Azkaban in the few months. Thomas Carrow, the only son of Alecto Carrow, birthed shortly before her own first stint in Azkaban following the first war, vanished from the premises late Tuesday night. Little is known about Mr. Carrow, except for his mother's name–his paternity has been kept a secret by Ms. Carrow for all these years–and the fact that, while his mother was in Azkaban, he was raised by family friend Fenrir Greyback, the noted Snatcher for You-Know-Who and ferocious werewolf. It is believed that Mr. Carrow, too, is a werewolf, having been bitten in his youth._

_Surprisingly enough, given his family reputation, Carrow was not incarcerated because of aiding You-Know-Who; because of his dubious past, Carrow was not allowed to join the Death Eaters during the second war; instead, he graduated Durmstrang in 1998. Living abroad for much of his life, he returned to Britain in 2000, where he continued his correspondence with Greyback, his former guardian, and is believed to have married a Muggle, fathering a daughter, Katie, with her. Shortly after his daughter's birth, Carrow was charged with killing his wife, and sentenced to life in Azkaban. He has been held in the special-needs ward–undoubtedly due to his suspected lycanthropy–and has never had any visitors. It is believed that Greyback's assistance was used in this break-out; Greyback has been at large since September, and it is believed that they are working together._

No one had a chance to say anything; the very next thing that happened was the sound of metal hitting the stone floor. Katie stood there, her goblet of pumpkin juice overturned at her feet–and she had turned a pale shade of grey, like a piece of old elephant skin.

"Katie!" Albus gasped.

She stood there, practically shell-shocked–and then she ran out of the hall as fast as she could.

-------------------------

Neville sat at the high table, eyeing Gabrielle and Justin, who were sitting at the other end of the table, looking a bit cuddly. They had been dating for the last two months–but only today had they made their relationship public. And it was all everyone at the feast could watch; Gabrielle was practically sitting on Justin's lap, and feeding him spoonfuls of pumpkin pie.

Teddy came up to Neville, his metamorphmagus hair striped orange and black just for Halloween, and then sat down in the empty chair next to him.

"Nice hair," Neville said.

Teddy changed it back to its natural brown and said, "Is that better?"

"Oh–I just didn't know you were a metamorphmagus."

"It was that or werewolf," he said with a smile. "I don't like to show it off, though. I'm too used to being different."

Neville said nothing, then looked away, again focusing on Gabrielle and Justin. "They certainly seem happy," he said. "I never would have seen it."

"Gabrielle and Justin?" Teddy said, as he watched them out of the corner of his eye as well. "I don't know. I still don't see it. I give them another couple weeks."

"Happy Halloween, darling," Victoire whispered, as she came up to the high table. "I saw you come in."

"Not here, Victoire," Teddy whispered. "If Charlie–"

"Don't worry about it," she said, as she saw Charlie across the way, deep in conversation with Professor Parkinson. "He's not even looking."

"All the same," said Teddy. Upon seeing her give him a bit of a pout, he said, "Oh, fine. Why don't you meet me in the faculty tower in ten minutes?" She smiled, gave him a discreet kiss on the cheek, and then ran out of the hallway.

Teddy turned to Neville, gave him a grin, and said, "This has been fun–but I should get going now."

Neville gave him a knowing smile, and went back to stirring his pumpkin pie. "Have fun, there, Teddy."

With Teddy gone, and Gabrielle across the table, Neville just sat there, unsure of where to look. He tried studying his pumpkin pie for a bit, then looked across the way, where he saw Professor Lovegood near the Ravenclaw table, speaking to several of her favorite students–and he couldn't help but smile.

-------------------------

Sometime later that evening, Oliver sat on his bed, working half-heartedly on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay–he needed three more inches, but had nothing left to say. He didn't seem too broken up about it, though; he had his wand in hand, and was lazily making two of his Quidditch action figures–Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet–dance the polka.

The door slammed shut, and he immediately dropped his wand; the figurines of his parents stopped moving, the German music–that seemed to flow from nowhere–stopped short.

"How's your essay?" Albus asked.

"Three more inches. Say, could I–"

"No."

"Could you help me, at least? You're so much smarter than I am."

"You're smart too," Albus replied. "You're just lazy."

Brendan, sitting across the room on his bed, agreed, "You should've finished it yesterday, like I did, so that you wouldn't have to worry about it on Halloween."

"Thank you," Oliver muttered. "Can you help me, Albus?"

His friend sighed, then sat on the edge of his bed. "All right. What's your topic?"

The door slammed shut again, and both of them looked up; it was Rose.

"Have you seen Katie?" she asked.

"Not since the feast," Albus replied, "but that was four hours ago. She's still not back yet?"

"No," his cousin replied. "And I'm scared; it's already dark, and no one's seen her."

Albus stood up, a bit of a proud grin on his face. "I know where we can find her. Follow me."

-------------------------

"I was thinking," Teddy said, as he leaned back against his headboard, "that we need a better system."

Victoire turned around from where she stood near the fireplace, stared at him for a second, then said, "What do you mean?"

"A better system," he repeated. "If Charlie catches us together–"

"We've been dating for two years," she said. "He's seen us together loads of times; he won't have a problem with us now." She felt her chest for a second, looked down, then added, "I had a bra."

"It's on the chandelier," he said, as he slowly lowered it down with his wand. She caught it, and went back to dressing. "It's just funny," her boyfriend continued, "that, even though we've been together for so long, I'm not allowed to date a student. It's in my contract."

"I'm sure Charlie doesn't think I'm sleeping with you to get a better mark," she answered. "Do you want me to talk to Charlie?"

"No–no, that wouldn't help. He told me, Victoire, that if the directors of the school find out, I could lose my job. They weren't fond of giving a fresh graduate the job anyway; it's only because of who my parents were and who my godfather is that they even considered it."

"He won't let them fire you," she said. "My dad and Charlie are brothers–and they're best friends."

"Even so," Teddy told her, "I think we need to hide this a little better."

"What if," Victoire said, as she brushed her red bangs out of her face, "we didn't date."

Teddy sat up a bit. "Victoire, you can't be serious! You're the best thing that ever happened to me–"

"What if," she rephrased, "we got married?"

"Married? Do you think we're ready?"

"Why not? We're going to be together for the rest of our lives, aren't we?"

"But marriage," he said. "Darling–you're still in school. You're only seventeen. Hell, I'm only nineteen. You don't think that'd be rushing things just a bit?"

"Maybe a bit," she agreed, "but how can it be rushing if we're in love?"

Teddy, by this point, had stepped out of bed, and had begun dressing. "I don't know," he said. "Victoire–it's all so sudden."

"Charlie can't say anything if we're married, can he?" she said. "Teddy, we'll go to Hogsmeade right now. We could be married in an hour! Just think of it!"

Teddy, not even worried about finishing dressing, started marching to the door, clad only in his underwear and a wrinkled white t-shirt. "I need some time to think about it, darling. I can't–no, I can't do it now. I'm sorry." He opened the door. "I think it's time for you to go.

-------------------------

Albus led his three bewildered friends into the corridor, up two flights of spiral stairs, and to a nondescript wooden door marked, "Third Year Boys."

It was locked.

"Alohomora."

None of the third year boys were in their dorm–which was lucky. Albus knew what he was doing; he went straight to the farthest bed, reached underneath it, and pulled out a large green trunk, with faded gold letters above the latch that read "James Potter." Albus opened the latch, pulled open the lid, and began quickly searching its contents.

"What are you looking for?" Brendan asked.

Albus said nothing; he continued to dig, finally coming upon a piece of old parchment. "This," he replied. He took out his wand, tapped the piece of parchment, and whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The others watched as ink poured out of the wand, and rearranged itself into a detailed map of Hogwarts.

"What is this thing?" Oliver asked.

"This," Albus said, with a bit of a smile, "is the Marauder's Map. It was my dad's, I think. He used to keep it in his file cabinet, but James snatched it one day when he came home for the Christmas holiday during his first year." He tapped his finger to the boys' dormitory, where four red dots were placed in a neat clump–with all four of their names at the bottom. "It shows everyone."

The smile disappeared from his face–but no one seemed to know why. Rose gave him a bit of a quizzical gaze in return, and then asked him what was wrong.

Albus didn't say anything; he dragged his finger to the far corner of the map, deep into the Forbidden Forest where there were two red dots together–Katie Carrow and Fenrir Greyback.


	6. Year One: Chapter Six

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**C**__**hapter Six**_

The platform at Hogsmeade Station was packed with students, all excited to be leaving for the Christmas holiday–but Albus, Rose, and Oliver stood a bit away from the crowd, near one of the stone benches.

"Are you sure it'll be all right?" Oliver asked, nervously.

"Of course it'll be all right," Albus replied. "My parents said they would love to have you over for Christmas."

"And my parents were excited, too," Rose chimed, "because they'll get to meet you on Christmas Day."

"Twenty people packed into Grimmauld Place for the Weasley family Christmas," Albus added. "You're going to love it."

"Twenty people," Oliver repeated. "I don't think I've ever had a Christmas with that many people." He stopped for a second, stiffened, and then said, "You know, I'm not going to your house because I have to."

"I didn't think that at all."

"My dad's playing Quidditch in Venezuela over the holidays–the Quidditch Christmas Classic–but he was more than willing to take me with him. I just didn't want to go."

"I know."

"I really didn't."

"I know, Oliver."

James came running up, his large trunk being dragged behind him. "The train's about to leave!" he exclaimed. "Let's go."

-------------------------

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was a far cry from its dilapidated state of twenty years prior; for the last two decades, it had been home to the Potter family–a place where Harry and Ginny Potter had seen their three children grow up–seen them take their first steps in the narrow foyer, celebrate their birthdays in the dining room, lose their first teeth in the upstairs bedrooms. It had changed quite a bit–the stubborn portrait of Mrs. Black had been painted over with a portrait of one Sirius Black, the house's former owner–and, except for an occasional muffled, nearly-inaudible scream from beneath the canvas when a Muggle-born entered the house, there was no sign of the horrible old woman's spirit. The whole house, too, had changed; Ginny had made sure of it–bright colors, new tile, new curtains, to stamp out the history of the house's Dark wizardry. And Kreacher, still every bit as motivated in his old age, kept the house looking beautiful.

Albus couldn't help but smile as he entered the house of his childhood–he loved Hogwarts, but Grimmauld Place was still home. And his smile only grew as he saw a sea of familiar faces in front of him–his parents, his grandparents Weasley; his uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, his uncles Percy and George, and their wives; Bill and Fleur; all of his five cousins–everyone was there. And still, more to come; Albus had run ahead to the house, but he knew that James, Rose, Oliver, Teddy, Victoire, and Gabrielle would all be coming up the front walk any minute. Through the house was the ceaseless din of family–and Albus couldn't be any happier.

A large Christmas tree sat elegantly in the corner of the parlor, and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were busy decorating the tree. Albus was about to make his way over to them–when he was nearly knocked off his feet and wrapped into a big bear hug by his dad, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Harry grinned at his son, kissed him on top of his messy black hair, and then said, "I missed you, Al."

The middle child looked up at his dad, grinned back–the same good-natured, happy-go-lucky smile that seemed to pass down from father to son in the Potter family. "I missed you, too, Dad."

Harry dragged Al over to the parlor, deposited him on the loveseat, and sat down next to him. "You know," he said, "I always used to hate the holidays–but now I love them, you know? It's the best excuse to get the whole family together."

Albus only nodded; he didn't know much about his father's early childhood, except that it was unhappy; Harry was never fond of talking about it; he would go into long anecdotes about his time at Hogwarts–save for his encounters with Voldemort–but would never mention the Dursleys. Albus didn't know why–hell, he didn't want to know; he was just thankful that he had the best father in the world.

"You could help, you know, Harry," Ginny called, as she levitated various tree ornaments from their little boxes.

"I would–I really would, but I'm reconnecting with my son," Harry explained. "You know, I never got to spend time with my father at the holidays." He gave a mock sad look, and Ginny rolled her eyes but then began to giggle, and went back to decorating the tree.

"Let them talk, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley said, giving Harry a bit of a wink. "It's the holidays. It's time for family."

James snuck up behind his dad, covered Harry's eyes, and said, "Your favorite kid is back!"

"Lily?"

James uncovered his dad's eyes, punched him playfully on the shoulder, and came around the other side to sit on Harry's other side. Harry wrapped his arms around his sons, grinned, and said, "My boys–back at home." He turned towards the older boy, and said, "You stole my Marauder's Map, didn't you?"

James gasped–a gasp dripping with mock surprise. "I? Why, Father, I am insulted at that very accusation!"

His dad's smile, if anything, grew wider. "I know it was you, and it's all right–just ask next time, okay? Just don't cause too much hell with it."

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Right," Harry replied sarcastically. "That's why I gave the invisibility cloak to Al, you know."

James said nothing; he simply leaned back on the sofa, kicked his feet up onto the beaded ottoman–"No shoes on the ottoman, James!" said Ginny–and then lazily turned back to his dad. "Teddy said you're going to give a guest lecture next year on your defeat of You-Know-Who."

Harry repositioned himself, a bit uncomfortably, "Why, yes, he did mention something about that. I haven't decided , of course–"

"Oh, you must!" James exclaimed. "I want to show everyone that I have to coolest dad."

That comment reminded Albus that Oliver was, probably, somewhere in the foyer–and he looked back. He was right–except Oliver wasn't alone; he was uncomfortably being pulled around by Rose, who was quickly introducing him to the throngs of red-headed Weasleys that littered the house.

"Oliver!" Albus called. "Come here!"

Oliver looked a bit surprised, then a bit relieved–and quickly made his way over to the sofa where the Potter men sat.

"Dad," Albus said, "this is my roommate, Oliver Wood."

"Oliver Wood," Harry repeated. "Named after your father, no doubt?"

"Yes, sir," Oliver said a bit meekly.

Harry smiled. "I was his seeker on the Gryffindor House team."

"I know," he replied. "I mean, everyone knows. You were the youngest seeker in a century."

Harry shrugged a bit, then replied, "I don't know–there were a lot of seekers. Do you play Quidditch?"

Oliver opened his mouth, as if to affirm enthusiastically–but then thought better of it, and slowly shook his head. "I used to–I used to play chaser, but I don't anymore."

James and Albus exchanged uncomfortable looks, but didn't say anything.

Oliver seemed to notice; he quickly stiffened, and said, "My dad's playing in Venezuela over the holidays–for the England team."

Harry nodded a bit. "I see. I think I read that; Ginny's the Quidditch Correspondent for the _Daily Prophet_. She was supposed to go to that game, actually, I think–but she got someone else to cover it."

Ginny, who had finished decorating the tree, came over to her husband, kissed him on the cheek, and then said, "Well, I couldn't be away from the family over Christmas, could I?"

Everyone laughed a bit at that. Albus didn't say anything–no one did–but he could have sworn that Oliver was laughing through a few tears.

-------------------------

Teddy and Gabrielle sat on the bed in Sirius's old room–the room that Harry and Ginny had, essentially, given to Teddy years ago, when he spent most of his time at their house anyway.

Gabrielle inspected all of the old posters and pictures Teddy had hung on the walls over the years, tacked over the decaying Muggle posters that Sirius had hung even longer ago. There were two or three Quidditch posters–one of the 2010 Puddlemere United team–but, like his room at school, most pictures were of his parents or of the Potters.

"You sure like your family," she remarked, as she studied a picture of tired but happy Lupin and a very pregnant Tonks.

"It's not like they were around much," Teddy said quietly. "They died right after I was born–well, you know that."

"I'm sorry," Gabrielle said. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I know how terrible that must have been for you."

"You don't know," he corrected. "Only one person knows what it's like." He pointed to another one of the pictures. "And that's why Harry is in all the other pictures."

Gabrielle said nothing; she just went back to quietly inspecting the Puddlemere United poster.

"Do you miss Justin?" Teddy asked suddenly. "I mean, over the holidays."

She shrugged. "We've only been dating a couple months–but yes, I suppose. He went back to Manchester to visit his family, and I didn't want to go. I don't think I'm ready for Christmas with the Finch-Fletchleys, anyway. They're Muggles, after all, and I do love the Weasleys' Christmas."

"Even though neither of us are in the family," Teddy replied.

"We're close," she said. "My sister and your godfather connect us enough, don't they?"

Victoire opened the door, then smiled when she found her boyfriend. "There you are," she said. "Uncle Harry's about to light the tree–and Grandma wanted us to open our presents right away."

"It's Christmas Eve," Teddy said. "We always open the presents tomorrow, don't we?"

"She's really excited," Victoire explained. "It's the first time she's seen me, you, Albus, James, or Rose–and she wants us to open them tonight."

-------------------------

Sometime later, everyone was packed into the parlor, surrounded by a sea of discarded wrapping paper–that Mrs. Weasley was trying to iron–and everyone wearing homemade sweaters. James was wearing his begrudgingly so; Mrs. Weasley always made his mauve, and he had a closet full of sweaters he had worn only on Christmas. Albus felt differently; he was proud that Mrs. Weasley always made him the same color as his father–a bottle green, to match their eyes. Mr. Weasley was sitting at the piano, plunking out some wizards' carols, and shards of off-key voices could be heard singing from every corner of the room–even Kreacher, who was wearing a dirty, darned Santa hat, as he handed two cups of eggnog to Teddy and Fleur.

Harry left midway through the classic "The Year Santa Ran Out of Floo Powder," and disappeared into his study. Albus didn't know why–and he was a bit curious. But he didn't have much time to think about it; Harry emerged from the study just minutes later, wearing his thickest cloak over his green Weasley sweater.

"Where are you going?" Ginny exclaimed, as she stood up.

The music abruptly stopped, and everyone looked at Harry–who turned a bit red with embarrassment. "I have to go into work for a bit–but I'll be back later tonight."

"But it's Christmas!" Ginny replied. "And you haven't seen your sons since September."

"I'll go with him," Albus offered. He didn't wait for a response from Harry–who, based on the look on his face, didn't seem to think it was a very good idea–and ran up the stairs to get a cloak for himself.

Harry didn't put up as much of a fight as Albus thought he would; he quietly accepted Albus and Oliver coming with him to the Ministry.

"What's wrong at the Ministry?" Albus asked.

Harry said nothing; he just started walking a bit faster, leaving the two boys to scramble up behind him.

"Come on, Dad!" Albus begged. "Tell me!"

"There's been a bit of a problem," Harry said. "Fenrir Greyback, you know, is still at large–and there's been another attack. A minor one. Very minor."

"Where?"

"Er–Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts!"

"Sort of," Harry answered. "He tried to attack someone coming out of the greenhouses–Neville, actually–but Greyback was rebuffed. It's not hard to rebuff a single wizard–especially for Neville. He's a damned good wizard."

"Why Neville?"

"No one's sure," Harry replied. "Neville was bringing some fresh mandrakes up to the castle–and Greyback stole those, and disappeared back into the Forest. I just have to go into work and make a statement–before Rita Skeeter makes one for me."

Albus didn't respond right away; he only looked worriedly at Oliver, who seemed to share his fear. Greyback was at Hogwarts?

"What do you know about Thomas Carrow?"

"Where did you hear about him?"

"His daughter, Katie, is a Gryffindor."

"His daughter," Harry repeated–suddenly stopping in the middle of the street. "You can't be serious! I thought that was just a rumor."

"She's a weird girl," Albus explained. "She's been going into the–oh, never mind."

"What? Where has she been going?"

"The Astronomy tower," his son lied. "She's big on astronomy, and all that."

Harry seemed to accept that response, and the three continued to walk down the street to the Ministry, without exchanging anymore words.

-------------------------

Several weeks later, Albus sat on his bed in Gryffindor tower, fervently writing another essay for History of Magic–something about the Werewolf Raids of 1823–when Brendan walked in, threw his book bag down at the floor, and collapsed onto his bed.

"Rough day?" Albus asked.

"The worst," Brendan replied. "Professor Parkinson gave me detention again."

"Why?"

"Because she's a cold-hearted bitch," Brendan answered. "But she said Filch gave you detention, too?"

"Yeah," Albus said. "He caught me trying to break into James's room this morning. I needed to get the Marauder's Map again."

"Why?"

"My dad told me something," Albus said, "about–well, nothing."

"Come on!" Brendan gasped. "You can tell me, Albus. We're friends, aren't we?"

Albus sighed. "All right. My dad told me that Greyback tried to attack Neville over Christmas. That means he's somewhere in the Forest. And I'd bet my invisibility cloak that Thomas Carrow is there with him, too. You know Katie–Katie Carrow? She's always going out to the Forbidden Forest, and I bet it's to see her dad. I bet she's giving him all kinds of information right now, to sneak him into Hogwarts."

Brendan shrugged a bit. "She always seemed nice to me."

"If she's a Dark witch," Albus said, "she's not going to be mean to your face–not yet, anyway."

"How do you know all of this?"

"My dad talks about it all the time. He didn't even know that Katie existed–and he's the head of the Department of Aurors. Thomas Carrow must have stashed her away real good. Probably so that he could use her later–all under the radar, you know. I bet that's it."

The door opened, and their roommate, Jordan Pritchard, came into the room, and greeted them. Albus quickly shushed Brendan, and went back to working on his essay.

-------------------------

"To be honest," Charlie told Teddy, "I'm a bit nervous about this whole Greyback thing–on Hogwarts grounds! He's desperate. He has nothing to lose."

"Nothing to lose?"

"Sure," Charlie reasoned. "He's an escaped convict, and a known werewolf; he's screwed either way. He's going to try to get power for himself, or die trying." He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm talked out. After that whole Neville thing, it's all everyone has asked me about." He gave a bit of a smile. "Funny; it's almost February now, and you still didn't tell me how your Christmas was. Was Mum mad that I didn't come?"

"A little bit," Teddy replied. "Oh–and she wanted to make sure you got your sweater."

Charlie nodded. "Another one for the collection; I have about forty now. I always told her that she needs to move on to something else–scarves, maybe; socks, even–but no, she keeps making sweaters." He grinned. "I miss Mum. She was so excited a few years ago when I told her that I was coming back to Britain–but she didn't know being Headmaster would allow me to only see her in the summers."

Teddy grinned. "She has enough sons."

"Yes," Charlie answered, a bit sarcastically, "and I slip right out, don't I? No, it's fine; I was always my dad's favorite, at least."

-------------------------

Albus and Brendan stood about fifty feet behind Filch, digging some sort of ditch along the perimeter of the school–with no magic; just a couple of old spades. It was backbreaking work–especially for two pure-blood wizards, who had never done Muggle labor.

Albus couldn't help but look at the Forbidden Forest–just a few feet away from them.

"Do you think," he said, "that Greyback and Carrow are out there?"

Brendan shrugged. "That was your idea, Albus, remember?"

"But what if they are?" Albus asked. "What if they're planning something? They're werewolves, after all; they could be after anyone. They just kill for the sake of killing–bloodthirsty creatures, werewolves, did you know?"

"Don't worry about it," Brendan said. "What happens, happens. I'm sure we'll be safe, as long as we stay on the grounds."


	7. Year One: Chapter Seven

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note (8/15/07):** I recently received some reviews and e-mails and such, and I just wanted to clarify a few things. First, two names were changed from Chapter One; Katie Lestrange became Katie Carrow, and Murphy Finnigan became Brendan Finnigan. I've updated Chapter One to better reflect this, and sorry for any confusion. Also, I got a review for one of my really old (and now removed) Dumbledore stories. Just a reminder: they were written in 2001 when I was 13, so they're not good or accurate considering the new information we got on Dumbledore. But yeah, keep reading... I hope you're enjoying the story!  
** Author's Note (8/16/07): **I just read my reviews on this chapter... And thank you for pointing out the formatting problems. The formatting I have on Word didn't translate to apparently, but it's all been fixed. Different scenes are split by a thin dashed line, instead of the one space that splits paragraphs. I went back and updated all previous chapters, too. And, a second quick point: the Governors were coming from tea at Hagrid's, which is mentioned later, but I added it to this chapter too, just to clarify.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

Spring was always one of Teddy's favorite seasons; the weather had gotten warmer suddenly, and it seemed that everyone was outside today; he could see James Potter and some of his friends from the Quidditch team playing catch, suspended in midair, with a spare quaffle, and he could also see–much to his satisfaction–Victoire sunbathing near Hagrid's hut, on the edge of the grounds.

"What are you doing all the way out here?" he asked her.

She sat up–and he watched her toned, bikini-clad eighth-veela body move–and said, "I wanted to get tan. I've been so pasty all winter."

"I think you look beautiful," he said–and he leaned in to kiss her. "You always look beautiful." He grinned. "And I don't have any classes today–and since we're missing lunch right now, how about a picnic?"

She smiled back. "I'd love one."

With a flick of his wand, a picnic basket came hurtling through the air, and landed at their feet. He pulled out a red checkered blanket, unfolded it, and then set out the meticulously wrapped meals, courtesy of the Hogwarts kitchen elves.

"You know," Victoire said, as she picked apart her sandwich, "we haven't really seen each other in a few weeks–except in class." She put her hand on his arm, and whispered, "And it's so hard to do things in class–you know."

He glanced around–and there was no one in sight. He pulled her in close, kissed her firmly on the mouth, and then said, "We're not in class now, are we?"

They were alone for several minutes, until they heard, from above, someone clear their throat–and both Teddy and Victoire looked up from where they lied, sprawled out on the grass, underneath the checkered blanket.

Charlie Weasley stood there, with the board of directors, who were all standing behind Draco Malfoy–the chair of the board, after taking over for his father who died late last year–having just come from a delightful afternoon tea at Hagrid's hut.

Teddy couldn't bear to look Charlie in the eye; he was fuming. His ears, his cheeks, hell–his whole face, had gone red, so red that it all seemed to blend together with his hair. Teddy had never seen him this mad before.

"Directors, may I present," he snarled, without even looking towards the twelve shocked governors, "Professor Teddy Lupin."

-------------------------

"Just twenty minutes," Oliver pleaded. "Come on. I never have anyone to fly with."

"I don't fly," Albus answered. "Do I need to cover this again, Oliver? My traumatic experience?"

"So you fell off a broom when you were four," Oliver replied. "You need to get over it, you know? Your dad was a great Quidditch player–and you could be too, you know."

"I don't play Quidditch," he replied, as he dipped his quill in a jar of red ink. "That would involve flying–and I don't do that. I told you. I haven't been on a broom in seven years–and I don't intend to start now."

"Brendan," Oliver called, "don't you think Albus is being unreasonable?"

"Let him do what he wants," Brendan replied. "But I'll go fly with you. Ask Rose, too; she wanted to get outside for a bit, too."

"Fine," Oliver said. He turned to Albus. "You don't have to play–but you're going to watch, and I'll be damned if you don't want to go for a quick flight by the end of the day."

Albus said nothing; he knew that he would've been dragged to the empty Quidditch pitch whether he liked it or not–and he was right. He sat there, his essay forgotten in his lap, as he watched his three friends fly around.

Someone sat down next to him–Katie Carrow, covered with dirt again.

"Long time, no see," she said slowly. "I feel like I haven't seen you since Christmas."

Albus shuffled a bit in his seat, scooted over a bit–she followed him–and said, "You know–we've been busy, and all. Where did you come from today?"

"Nowhere," she replied. "Just–nowhere."

"Nowhere?" he asked. "Not even to the Forest?"

-------------------------

"Never–I've been at Hogwarts for five years now, and never have I seen such a display of unprofessionalism!" Charlie yelled. "Teddy–Teddy, I tried to tell you that you couldn't see her. Hell, I was willing to turn a blind eye to it all if you had just kept it private–but, there you are, half-dressed and having sex in the middle of the grounds! How the hell is that supposed to look to the board of governors? If anyone was caught doing that–they'd risk expulsion. But a professor and a student? That's just beyond–no, Teddy, I can't even say it!"

Teddy said nothing; he simply sat there, staring at all of the disapproving headmasters' portraits in the rotunda of Charlie's office. He looked away, staring down at his knees–and suddenly became aware that he was wrapped only in the picnic blanket.

"Do you know what this means?" Charlie asked.

Teddy nodded slowly, without looking up, and whispered, "Should I pack my things?"

"Not yet," he said. "If they think this is a big enough offense, they'll recommend a hearing–and, even if they decide to fire you, you'll finish out the term."

"But I'm going to get sacked, aren't I?"

Charlie said nothing; he haphazardly shuffled papers, then shrunk back into his big leather armchair. "That'll be up to the board, I'm afraid," he said quietly. "I don't have a say anymore. But if it means anything–I want you to stay."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't have given you the job if you couldn't have handled it," Charlie said, "and I think you know that. When I was at Hogwarts, there were students and there were teachers–and no lines were ever crossed. But I always thought we needed some young blood on the staff–someone to bridge the gap." He grinned ironically at Teddy, then shook his head a bit. "But maybe I was just crazy."

"Headmaster!" hollered Filch, as he stormed into the office.

"Busy, Argus!" Charlie called.

"James Potter set off twelve dungbombs in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room, and–"

"Deal with it," Charlie said. "I have bigger things to handle–"

"Headmaster!" said Draco Malfoy, as the governors came into the office–Teddy discreetly covered himself up with a handmade burgundy sweater with a large blue C on it that he found on the corner of Charlie's desk. "We have made our recommendation." He placed a piece of parchment on the desk next to Teddy and said, "Your hearing is scheduled for tonight."

-------------------------

"Where did you get an idea like that?" Katie asked. "No, I'm dirty because–I was helping Professor Longbottom in the greenhouses."

"That's a lie," Albus snapped. "Your dad's out in the forest, isn't he? With Greyback!"

"Will you shut up!" Katie hissed. "Albus, you don't know anything, do you?"

"I know plenty; he escaped from Hogwarts, and–"

"Not about that," she whispered. "Damn it, Albus, I never knew my father–and he's finally back in my life. Can't you just leave it at that?"

"Not if he's hurting people," he replied. "My dad's an auror, Katie, and it's his job to make sure–"

"My father is not a Dark wizard," Katie said. "Even if–never mind."

"Even if what?"

"It's not important."

"But I'm going to tell my dad," he said. "If your dad escaped from Azkaban–"

"But you'd like him, if you just met him!" She smiled a bit. "I'm going back out there tonight. Why don't you come and see for yourself?"

"No, I couldn't."

"It's safe," she said. "Greyback isn't even there, you know. I don't like Greyback. He scares me. But my dad–oh, you'd love him! Say you'll come!"

"All right."


	8. Year One: Chapter Eight

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Just a note. Each year will have ten chapters in it, of varying length, depending on when the chapter needs to end. All seven years will be posted as one story. But yeah, I have a lot of good things planned, so anyway, hope you're all enjoying it so far, because I think it's only going to get better.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Eight**_

Neville sat on the edge of Teddy's bed, as he tied his tie in the mirror.

"I'm scared," Teddy said.

"You shouldn't be," Neville replied. "I mean, you're in a lot of trouble–and I think you realize that."

"I do, thanks," Teddy muttered.

"But you could be in worse trouble," Neville said. "You didn't kill anyone. You didn't put any students under the Imperius Curse. You just had sex with a student–on a field, in front of the board of governors. Oh, well, that is bad."

"I know it's bad," Teddy said. "It was stupid–but how was I supposed to know that, at that instant, Charlie and the governors were finishing tea at Hagrid's hut?"

"It was a bout of bad luck," Neville said. "But I have a gift for you–well, Gabrielle does. I just gathered the ingredients." He handed him a small vile of gold potion. "It's Felix Felicis. We made it for you. It was my idea, but her handiwork. We thought you could use a little luck."

There was a knock on the door, and Albus stepped inside.

"Albus," Teddy said, "you're not supposed to be in the faculty quarters–but what's up?"

"I need to talk to you," he said. "But–you're busy, aren't you? What are you getting dressed up for?"

Teddy looked to Neville, then back to Albus. "I have a meeting. Nothing important. What did you need to talk to me about?"

"What do you know about Thomas Carrow?"

"He's a werewolf," Teddy said. "That's about it–that's Katie Carrow's dad."

"And he killed her mum?'

"Well, there was little evidence to show that–but who else would have? She was a Muggle, after all. Not a big target, you know–especially at that time."

"So he might not have killed her?"

"Perhaps," Teddy replied. "It's a big 'might,' though, Albus–or so I always thought. I knew my dad respected him a bit for his werewolf rights work–but that was before he got locked up."

"Do you think he's dangerous?"

"Not especially. Azkaban drains power pretty quickly–what are you getting at?"

"Nothing–nothing."

"All right," he said. "I really have to go, and tou should really get out of here. If Charlie catches me breaking another rule, I might as well just pack my bags."

"Fine," Albus said. "I'll see you tomorrow." And he left.

Teddy and Neville, meanwhile, walked downstairs to Charlie's office; the governors were inside, but Neville and Teddy were to wait on a stone bench outside the stone gargoyle entrance.

"Maybe I should just resign," Teddy said. "It would save me from the ignominy of actually being fired–could you imagine what my parents would have said?"

"Your dad," Neville said, "was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to ever walk these halls." He paused for a minute, turned a bit pink, and quickly corrected, "Well, you're good, too, you know; it's just–"

"Never mind that," Teddy said. "What about my dad?"

"He just–he just wouldn't have wanted you to throw this all away. The Remus Lupin I knew would've wanted you to go down fighting–because you're a damned good professor, Teddy, and no matter what faux pas you make, you should know that."

"It was because of him that I wanted to be a professor," Teddy replied. "He would've given anything to come back here after he got fired in '94."

"Don't let him down," Neville said. "Your dad was a fighter."

Teddy smiled a bit, reshuffled his weight with a bit more confidence–but then looked horrified when he heard the echoing voice of Draco Malfoy–"Professor Longbottom, please escort Mr. Lupin inside."

----------------------------

Katie and Albus, under the invisibility cloak, crept slowly past Hagrid's hut, to the edge of the forest.

"We should be almost there," she whispered–and, once they were covered sufficiently by the undergrowth and the tall trees, took the cloak off.

She stopped for a moment, crouched down, and picked up a small garden snake. She stood up, holding it close to her face, and began hissing at it. Albus watched from several feet behind, not knowing what to say.

The snake lifted its tail, pointed towards a break in the trees about a hundred feet ahead, then jumped out of Katie's hand and scurried away.

"You're a parselmouth?"

She looked back at him, said nothing, and simply pointed towards the clearing ahead. Albus folded the cloak, put it inside his book bag, and scrambled to follow her.

Thomas Carrow was a disheveled looking wizard; he had, Albus decided, once been good looking–Katie was, after all, a pretty girl. He had black hair, scraggly, cut to his ears with some sort of rough object–probably after he escaped Azkaban–and hollowed dark eyes, which appeared, to Albus, deep, vicious, and empty. He was wearing an old robe–bright orange, with "Azkaban" printed on the back–and an old Durmstrang scarf wrapped around his neck, and no cloak. He squatted in front of a small blue fire, warming his calloused hands, and

That's when Katie rummaged in her book bag, pulled out a grey cloak. "I got this from the laundry," she said. Her father took the cloak ravenously, put it on, and then ran up to Albus. His face just an inch from the tip of Albus's nose, he studied the young boy closely; Albus could feel Carrow's hot breath on his face.

"Harry Potter," Carrow decided, his black eyes fixating on Albus's green ones. "Harry Potter–but where is your scar? Did it disappear with the Dark Lord?"

"This is Albus Potter," Katie said. "Harry Potter's son."

"Far too old, far too old," Carrow said, not blinking, not taking his eyes off Albus–Albus could feel his own heart beating twice the speed of normal, but he resisted the urge to run. "Harry Potter–too young for a son like this. How old is Harry Potter?"

"Thirty seven."

"Lies!" Carrow hollered. "Lies–the Dark Lord's body is scarcely cold, and you're feeding me these lies. Lies!" He looked as if he was going to pounce–but he didn't; he simply swept his cloak around his shoulders, and disappeared into his tent.

"It's all right," Katie said. "He gets like this sometimes–but he's usually better."

Carrow reemerged from the tent–this time, his eyes seemed less cold, less daunting, and he wasn't snarling anymore. His hair, too, looked a bit neater–though it still hung down above his dirty face.

"Katie!" he exclaimed–and he ran over to hug his daughter. "I didn't know you had arrived–who's your friend?"

Without missing a beat, Katie grabbed Albus's arm, and said, "This is Brendan Finnigan."

"You look familiar," Carrow said–and Albus was sure he would guess his paternity. But he didn't. "Not of the Boston Finnigans?"

"Yes," Albus said meekly. "The Boston Finnigans."

"Lovely folk," Carrow replied. "John Finnigan was my roommate at Durmstrang–there's no magical school in the States, you know, so they all go abroad."

"Wonderful."

"Daddy," Katie said, "Brendan, here, is a cousin of Teddy Lupin."

"Lupin!" Carrow exclaimed, a bit of excitement washing over his face. "Remus's boy? How is Remus getting along?"

"Fine," Katie quickly said. "He and his wife live in Godric's Hollow, last I heard."

"I must make a note of it," Carrow replied. "I–"

There was a sudden change of the wind, which ripped through the clearing quite forcefully.

"That'll be Fenrir," Carrow whispered. "You two had better get out of here, won't you? He doesn't like visitors when he's gone." He quickly ushered them out of the clearing.

"Let's stay and wait," Katie whispered. "I want to see–wait, where are you going?"

Albus had, by this point, already broken into a run, racing across the thick underbrush towards the edge of the forest. Katie, not wanting to be left alone with Greyback and Carrow, followed him–and they both toppled to the finely manicured grass of the Hogwarts grounds, as they stumbled out of the forest.

"He's crazy," Albus whispered. "Katie, he can't be left alone–they need to take him to St. Mungo's or something."

"No!" she gasped. "I won't have him locked up! Albus, understand, won't you? He's the only family I've got left."

"But why's he so off?"

"He's–he's–well, Azkaban will do that to you, you know? And his parents weren't exactly together, either, you know. But he's all right; he won't hurt anyone, as long as Greyback's not there."

"But Greyback will be there!" Albus gasped. "And there's no telling what they will do; werewolves hold grudges against just about everyone, you know? They've been treated badly for centuries."

"You can't tell anyone about this," she said, "no matter how you feel about it. You have to promise me that, all right?"

"Fine," he said, after a long pause. "I promise. I won't tell anyone."

And they parted ways. But Albus didn't go straight back to Gryffindor tower–he went to the owlery.


	9. Year One: Chapter Nine

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

"On this morning, the Governors of Hogwarts School," Draco Malfoy said, reading from a very official-looking piece of parchment, "after enjoying tea at the home of Professor Rubeus Hagrid, caught Professor Theodore Remus Lupin in a compromising situation with a student, in an open place–on the lawn a hundred meters away from Professor Hagrid's home–and is now being evaluated for the termination of his job as teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts." He motioned towards the Governors behind him, put down the piece of parchment, and continued, "We all know what we saw. So this shouldn't take long. We have only one witness, for the accused. Headmaster of Hogwarts, Charles Arthur Weasley."

Charlie stood up, looking far more serious than Teddy had ever seen him before.

"When I hired Professor Lupin," Charlie told the board of governors–who seemed suddenly to be hanging on every word he said, "I did so knowing about his disdain for authority and recklessness; he takes after his godfather in that way. But he takes after Harry Potter in a number of other ways, as well. He has the makings to be the most powerful wizard of his age–the Albus Dumbledore of the millennial generation, if you will–and he's terribly trustworthy–I've seen countless students single him out to talk to, because he's the only member on the staff that any of them can relate to. He understands them–he's young, after all, and was a student himself just ten months ago. That enhances his role as a professor, if anything. He's the first step in a newer, better Hogwarts–and he's doing a damned good job at it, too; according to the OWL and NEWT committees, he has had more students pass than any Defense Against the Dark Arts professor since his father. If the board of governors would be so kind as to give him simply a year of probation, I will make it my responsibility to keep the young Lupin in line."

"If there are no more witnesses on behalf of Professor Lupin," Draco Malfoy said, "then we shall retire to the voting chamber to decide his fate."

"If I may say something," Teddy said, standing up.

"You're actually not allowed to speak at this hearing."

"Well, I'm going to," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm stupid–I'm young and stupid. And I messed up; I did probably the worst thing I could've done, which is to betray the trust of the board, and betray the trust of Headmaster Weasley. But this job means more to me than anything else–and I'm willing to do anything to keep it."

Teddy studied the Governors for a moment; they were all scowling, with the notable exception of George Weasley, and that was probably only because Teddy was like family. But, still, Teddy thought, it doesn't hurt to have one ally.

"Thank you, Mr. Lupin," Malfoy said. "And now, we adjourn for the time being. Professor, we shall send you our decision tomorrow by owl. You are all dismissed."

--------------------------

Harry Potter was sitting in his study at the Grimmauld Place house, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea that Kreacher had brought him about an hour ago. He wasn't doing anything in particular tonight; there wasn't much to do, after all, since he had just returned from a trip to Azkaban, where he was meeting with a Ministry committee to strengthen defenses, a last ditch effort to ward off the rising sentiment for the return of the dementors–something Harry simply couldn't allow.

Yes, he wasn't doing anything when a Hogwarts owl flew threw the open window, dropped a piece of parchment on Harry's lap, and flew back out again.

He held up the parchment to the light, squinted at it, and read:

_Carrow and Greyback are in the Forest–a thousand feet from Hagrid's hut._

"Ginny!" Harry called. "I have to go into work for a moment."

--------------------------

Albus didn't say anything that whole night–and Oliver, Brendan, and Rose seemed a bit nervous about that. Granted, Albus was always a shy boy, and had never been the most talkative of the bunch–but, still; he was just sitting in the common room with them, staring into the fire.

"Where'd you go today?" Rose asked. "With Katie, I mean; one minute, you were talking to her, and the next minute you were gone."

"Just for a walk," he replied. "How was flying?"

"We could've played two-on-two," Oliver said, "if you would just get on a broomstick."

"I won't," Albus snapped. "I already told you that, Oliver–could you just drop it?"

"I don't know what you're pissed about," Oliver said, "but don't take it out on me, all right?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. Just stop." Albus stood up, brushed himself off, and said, "I'm going to bed. I'll see you all in the morning."

It seemed that, the next morning at breakfast, everyone was waiting for the mail to arrive–Albus sure was, at least. He nervously chewed on his fingernails, as he awaited the imminent headline of the _Daily Prophet_. Oliver sat next to him, unsure of what was making his friend so worried–but, based on the events of last night, he didn't say anything. No one else seemed at all concerned; Rose, Brendan, and Katie were all in a deep conversation about their Charms homework, and seemed to be happily eating their breakfast without noticing Albus.

The sky opened up to a sea of owls, and Albus stood up, ready to grab his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as it dropped onto the table.

**Thomas Carrow Recaptured**  
_by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_

_HOGSMEADE–A group of aurors recaptured Thomas Carrow late last night, after the Ministry received an anonymous tip of his whereabouts. Carrow was suspected to be living with known werewolf and fugitive Fenrir Greyback, whose personal effects were found with Carrow. Greyback was not captured last night, and his location is currently unknown._

_Carrow has been brought back to Azkaban, which is awaiting the return of the dementors at the order of Minister of Magic Percy Weasley, and has been scheduled to receive a kiss tomorrow afternoon, which will necessitate his permanent relocation to St. Mungo's._

Albus set down the paper, and looked back to Katie, who was laughing at some joke that Brendan told her. But he didn't say anything–and, for the first time since he sent that owl last night, he felt guilty.

--------------------------

Up at the high table, Teddy received his own letter–but he couldn't bring himself to open it.

"It'll be okay," Gabrielle whispered, as she took his arm gently. "You have to open it, Teddy."

Teddy took the letter in his hands, his heart beating strongly now, and he slowly ripped the top of the envelope.

_Dear Mr. Lupin,  
On behalf of the Hogwarts Board of School Governors, I am pleased to announce that you have been placed on a temporary probation, the period of which shall not exceed one year. In light of that decision, it is my further pleasure to offer you the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor again for the 2018-2019 school year.  
Sincerely,  
Draco Malfoy,  
Hogwarts Board of School Governors, Chairman_

"You did it!" Neville gasped. "I told you everything would be fine, didn't I, Teddy? Didn't I?"

Teddy grinned at him, then looked over at Charlie, who exchanged a knowing smile, then to the Gryffindor table; Victoire was running up to the high table. Teddy quickly got up, and disappeared into the foyer. Victoire followed.

"You're staying," she said, with a smile. "I'm so glad." She leaned in, ready to kiss him–but he stepped back.

"I can't," he said. "I'm sorry."

"That's all right," she said. "Shall I meet you in your room in ten minutes?"

"No," he replied. "I can't–I can't do any of it. Victoire, I think we need to break up."

"Break up!" she gasped. "Why?"

"It's not because I've stopped loving you," he said. "I haven't, Victoire–but my job is everything to me, and I can't jeopardize it again. And I can't date you until you graduate. If I'm caught with you again, I could lose everything."

"So it's over?"

"No," he said. "Not over. I just need to take a break–just for a year. When you graduate, we can get back together; I promise."

She frowned a bit, but nodded. "I understand, Teddy–I really do. I'm just going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," he said. "Terribly. But it has to be done." He reached for her hand, shook it–rather professionally–and then said, "All right, I think we're done here, Miss Weasley."

"Thank you, Professor Lupin," she whispered–and then she ran up the stairs back to Gryffindor tower.

--------------------------

"Did you do this?" Katie hissed, as she set down the _Daily Prophet._ "Answer me, Albus!"

"No–no, I didn't!" Albus gasped. "I wouldn't. I promised you, didn't I?"

She seemed to accept that answer, but that didn't make her any happier; she simply wiped her eyes, and then said, "I can't believe this. He's the only parent I have left. My mother's dead, my grandmother's dead, my grandfather's dead–and now, my dad is going to–" She stopped. She couldn't bring herself to say it.

Albus said nothing; he put his arm around her neck, pulled her to his shoulder, and let her tears run down all over his robes.


	10. Year One: Chapter Ten

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year One  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2017 to June 2018  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Well, this is the last chapter of Year One. Six more to go. As always, reviews are appreciated; please let me know what you thought about the whole year so far, both good and bad. Also, the first chapter of Year Two (which has already been finished) will be up shortly, posted as Chapter 11 of this same story, just to make it easy for everyone to find, especially those who have subscriptions to this story. Each year is going to have ten chapters, for a grand total of 70. A little daunting, but I'm confident we can all make it that far.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year One**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

The last few weeks of the semester went by quickly and uneventfully; Albus was pleased to discover that he had the highest marks in his class–followed by a very close second, Scorpius Malfoy. The professors were all happy for him; they said he took after his namesakes, and it wouldn't be long before he proved himself to be a powerful wizard in his own right. But Albus didn't think much of that; academic marks weren't as fulfilling as he thought they would be.

A certain nagging feeling filled his mind over the last couple of weeks. What if he hadn't mailed his father–and what if Thomas Carrow hadn't been kissed and sent to live in St. Mungo's? It was a long train of "what-ifs," of course, and Albus knew that Carrow probably would have been caught anyway–but he just wished he didn't have to be the one to turn him in. He had lied to Katie–twice–and had consoled her when she thought someone else had tipped off the Ministry. He didn't dare tell her now. And he hated himself for that. He shouldn't have done anything; he should have honored his promise, and let Carrow stay free. But he was too scared; he couldn't have slept with the thought of werewolves running around the forest. And he hated himself for that too–and he wished he could be brave like his dad.

"This summer," Oliver said, in response to a question that Brendan must have asked, "I'm going to tour with my dad and Puddlemere United, all over Europe. I can't wait." He looked to Brendan. "What–are you going back to Dublin this summer?"

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be great; I can't wait to see my mum and dad again–and all my friends from back home."

Oliver gave a bit of a weak smile, then darted his eyes to the fast-moving countryside out the window of the Hogwarts Express. "Yeah, I wish I was going back to Dorchester to see all my friends, and all–but seeing a Quidditch team go for the European Cup will be pretty cool too."

"Oh, the coolest," Brendan agreed quickly. "What about you, Potter? What are you doing?"

"I'll just be home," he said, "with my family. My dad insists upon it." With a grin, he added, "I'd love it if you guys could come and visit."

Brendan just nodded appreciatively, but Oliver looked genuinely excited. "Really?" he asked. "I think I might take you up on that–you know, if traveling Europe with Puddlemere United becomes too strenuous."

Albus nodded, smiled knowingly, and said, "You're always welcome, Oliver."

--------------------------------

Teddy sat alone in a train compartment, still thinking about Victoire; he missed her–they had dated, after all, for three years now. And it was summer, he reasoned, so it's not as if Charlie or the governors could do anything about it–but he knew that would only make it harder. How could he spend all summer with Victoire, then give her up again when school started? No–it was easier to continue cold turkey, not seeing her, not even thinking about her. That would be better for everyone; when she graduated, perhaps, things could be different.

Gabrielle and Neville slid the door open, stepped inside, and sat down–suddenly reminding Teddy of the start of the year. He couldn't help but smile. Things were different, sure, but he had made it through his first year–not unscathed, of course; he had nearly been fired, placed on probation, and lost his girlfriend. But he had done it. He had been successful–and he knew that going back next year would only be easier.

"Are you all right?" Gabrielle asked. "You're not still thinking about Victoire, are you?"

"I am," he said, "but just a little. I'll be all right."

"Good," Neville chimed. "You know, it was really big of you to break things off; I can't tell you how much I respect you for that." He smiled, turned a bit pink, and sheepishly said, "Of course, I've never been in love before, but–"

At that moment, Professor Lovegood walked past their compartment–and Neville shrunk down in his seat. Gabrielle and Teddy looked at him, and couldn't help but laugh; Neville cracked a shy smile.

-------------------------------

The train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and Albus already saw his parents, and his uncle Ron and aunt Hermione, standing together at the platform, waiting for the train to get in, and he thought, perhaps, the one thing that his father never did on the Hogwarts Express–that he couldn't wait for the summer.


	11. Year Two: Chapter One

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Well, here's the first chapter of year two! Thanks for all the great reviews. I just wanted to answer a few things. I tried to take a different angle on Albus and Oliver, trying to break the courageous, golden boy stereotype normally used in fan fics; Albus isn't the same guy that his dad was; he's not especially brave or as unwaveringly good--at least at this point of his life. And Oliver is even more flawed. It's not easy having a famous father, for either of them, as different as their dads are, and I wanted to show that. But rest assured; they're both Gryffindors, and I'm sure they'll both be redeemed in the end. And Scorpius had to be a Slytherin, I'm afraid, and you'll see why when his character makes more frequent appearances later on. And also, yes, the dysfunctional Wood family will be built on in later years. Keep the reviews coming--let me know how you like the start of this year.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter One**_

The funny thing about Albus Potter–or so he liked to think–is that he is so different from the rest of his family. He noticed that when he was sitting on a bench with _Hogwarts, A History_, as his parents, brother, and sister all played a game of two-on-two Quidditch–Harry and Lily against James and Ginny. The former team was winning, much to James's displeasure. Albus never played with them. He didn't like to fly–some sort of bad experience several years ago, when he fell of a broomstick, that he never liked to talk about.

His family landed near him, and his dad walked over to Albus, wrapped his arm around the boy, and said, "Are you sure you don't want to fly with us?"

Albus looked into his father's eyes, and said, "I'm sure. Thanks, though."

"If you're sure," Harry replied. "Let's go home, then, shall we? It's almost lunch time."

The five of them walked down the streets through Muggle London, attracting a few odd looks due to their Quidditch robes and broomsticks, and came to the entrance to number twelve, Grimmauld Place–the Potter family house.

Albus noticed a familiar figure sitting on the front stoop, a trunk at his feet and a large snowy owl in a cage; this boy was his friend, Oliver Wood, Jr.–the son of the famed keeper for Puddlemere United.

"Oliver!" he exclaimed, as he ran to greet his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"You said I could come and visit–that I was always welcome," he said.

"You are–but I thought you were traveling Europe with your dad."

Oliver said nothing; he only looked away and pretended Albus hadn't even asked a question. After a brief pause, he stood up, grabbed the handle of his trunk, and said, "What do you say? Can I stay with you for a bit? We catch the Hogwarts Express in a week, after all–I won't be much trouble. You won't even know I'm here–"

"What's this?" Harry asked, as he stepped up onto the stoop.

"Oliver's going to be staying with us for a week," Albus said. "If that's okay, of course."

"That's fine–if he doesn't mind the foldaway in my study, I'm afraid," he said. He looked to Oliver, and said, "Teddy's in town this week, and we usually his room as a guest room. If you don't mind."

"Anything's better than–oh, that's fine, Mr. Potter, thanks." He grinned a bit sheepishly, and then dragged his trunk and owl into the house, as Harry called for Kreacher to make up the foldaway.

After Albus had helped Oliver bring his trunk into the study, they both went up to Albus's room–which Albus considered the best room in the house; it was circular, if smaller than the other bedrooms, and located in the rotunda above the foyer. Oliver couldn't help but notice that it was quite sparsely decorated, as opposed to James's room, which was coated with Quidditch posters. But Oliver didn't mind that now; he didn't want pictures of Puddlemere United looking down at him.

"What are you doing here?" Albus asked.

"You said I could–"

"Don't get me wrong," Albus told him. "I'm glad you're here–really glad! But I just don't know why you came."

Oliver looked away for a second, then out the window–where he saw James and Harry tossing a quaffle back and forth in the street. He turned back to Albus, and said, "I had the worst summer ever."

"I thought you were touring Europe."

"I was," he said, "until my dad realized that he hadn't said two words to me the entire week we were in Italy, and thought I'd have more fun elsewhere. So I was visiting my squib uncle and his muggle wife up in Aberdeen–and it was terrible, you know? I couldn't do magic. They couldn't do magic. We just sat around watching television all the time."

"Sounds fun," Albus replied.

"Well, it wasn't," Oliver replied. "And I was there about three weeks before I decided I couldn't do it anymore. So I packed up my things and I hailed the knight bus–but I couldn't think of anywhere to go. So I came here. But you guys were out, and the elf made me wait on the stoop."

"Kreacher isn't the friendliest guy to strangers," Albus explained. "But he'll warm up to you. He warms up to everyone."

"He's awfully old."

"Oh, the oldest!" Albus replied. "My dad would've freed him long ago–he's not a fan of servitude like that–but where would Kreacher go? It would probably have killed him, the shock of it all. And now, we don't even know how any of us would get along without him."

"Elves like being servants," Oliver replied. "They're not wizards." He shuffled a bit, uncomfortably, and looked out the window again, where Harry and James were now on brooms, chasing after a snitch ("Don't worry; there's a concealment charm on the whole place," said Albus) and then went back to his friend. "I guess I just got tired of being shuffled from relative to relative because my dad can't care for me."

"Your father can care for you," Albus said. "He must make a million galleons a year playing for Puddlemere."

"Financially," Oliver agreed. "We have a big house, loads of house elves–but he doesn't know what to do with me now that my mum died. He used to play with me every other weekend, work on Quidditch skills with me–and I would look forward to that. He was a great dad when he only had to be with his son once a week or so. But he sucks as a full-time parent."

"Your dad loves you."

"You've never met him," Oliver snapped. "But yes, he does love me, I suppose–but he just loves Quidditch more."

Albus said nothing; if what he heard about Oliver Wood, Sr., from his dad is half-true, there's nothing more important in his life than the game of Quidditch; he lived it, breathed it, at Hogwarts and it seemed nothing changed.

The door swung open, and Teddy stood there, dressed in a set of muddy Gryffindor Quidditch robes–back from his days as chaser at Hogwarts, when he was a student.

"Albus–" he began. His eyes caught Oliver's, and he said, "Oh, Wood. I didn't know you were coming."

"It was a spur of the moment thing," Albus said. "He got tired of spending time with his dad, and wanted to be with some friends for a bit." Oliver was thankful for the small fib.

Teddy smiled, nodded a bit–not quite understanding kids who didn't want to be around their parents.

"Where are you coming back from?"

"Victoire and I grabbed a couple firewhiskys," he said, "and then played some Quidditch in the park."

"Firewhisky, Teddy?" Harry asked, appearing in the doorway behind his godson. "You certainly like that firewhisky, don't you?"

"I'm not my dad," Teddy replied. "If I was a werewolf, I'd try to drink it all away, too–but I'm happy. No reason to become an alcoholic, all right, Harry? What do I have to drink about?"

His eyes quickly darted to Oliver, and they both exchanged a knowing glance. Teddy turned back to Harry with a smile–but Harry wasn't smiling. That answer didn't seem good enough.

"Just–lay off it for a bit," Harry replied. "And there will be none of it in my house, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Teddy said quietly. His godfather nodded, and disappeared back into the hallway. Teddy shrugged the situation off, and came into Albus's room, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"How was Victoire?" Albus asked.

"Hot," Teddy said. "And wearing as little clothing as could be deemed socially acceptable." He pulled a small flask from inside his robes, took a quick sip, then put it back inside. "It's hard." He gave a bit of a boyish grin, then said, "The situation, I mean. This whole 'just friends' thing, you know? I'm not a fan." He pulled out his flask again, took another swig, and then said, "I'd offer you some, but you're students. Charlie would have my ass on a plate."

"We're not your students until next week," Oliver said hopefully.

"You're one I'll keep my eye on, Wood," Teddy answered, with a bit of a grin. "Maybe when you're older, I'll buy you a pint, and we'll split it." He yawned a bit, stretched his muddy arm towards the ceiling, and said, "Do you think I'm crazy for breaking things off with her?"

"You had to," Albus pointed out. "You have to keep your job."

"I know," he said. "She was flirting with these muggles we saw playing football–and they were into her. I could tell. I hope she realizes this is just a year-long break for us."

"You're probably just imagining it," Albus replied. "She's crazy about you. Aunt Fleur told Mum that Victoire's still upset over the whole thing."

"That makes me feel a bit better," Teddy replied. "But just a bit."


	12. Year Two: Chapter Two

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter Two**_

The summer ended like a whirlwind; no sooner had Oliver arrived at the Potters than they were whisked away on a spree of errands–first to buy all of their school things at Diagon Alley, then finally to King's Cross, where they caught the Hogwarts Express going back up to Scotland. They were reunited with their friends, Katie Carrow, Brendan Finnigan, and Rose Weasley, who were already in a small compartment at the front of the train. Fitting the five of them in there wasn't easy–but it didn't matter, especially when they all started talking. Albus had forgotten just how much he had missed all of them; even the train ride wasn't enough time for them all to catch up. They were at Hogsmeade Station before any of them could say anything. And there wasn't even any time to talk once they got up to the Great Hall; the sorting–which yielded no surprises; Scorpius Malfoy's sister Cassiopeia was sorted into Slytherin–gave way to a lavish feast, which was uneventful except for Charlie introducing their new Transfiguration professor–an attractive Asian witch with a thick Scottish accent named Professor Maxwell–and then they all ate ravenously, without pausing to even say a word to each other.

And, after that, classes seemed to start right away, without a moment for any of them to even catch their breath. Nothing exciting happened, either–which Albus didn't mind, to be quite honest. He was just happy to be sitting on his bed, writing his first Transfiguration essay of the year for Professor Chang's class. Albus did enjoy writing essays; he had already gone six inches past the required length. Brendan sat on his bed, struggling to finish.

Oliver threw open the door–though Albus had to look twice to make sure it was him. He was dressed in Puddlemere United Quidditch robes–with his father's name and number on the back–and was covered from head to toe in mud. It was raining outside, after all.

Oliver made his way to his bed, collapsed onto it–unaware or perhaps just not caring that he was getting mud everywhere–and threw his muddy broomstick under his bed.

"I just made the Quidditch team," he said suddenly. "James told me right there, right on the spot, that I was the best chaser he had seen all day–and McLaggen came up to me right after and told me I made the team."

"That's great!" Albus replied. "Did you tell your dad?"

"Already sent the owl," Oliver said. "He's going to be so proud it's not even funny." He paused for a moment, repositioned himself on the bed so he sat up against the headboard, and said, "I can't wait for you all to see me play!"

Rose and Katie entered the room, without knocking, and they went right over to Oliver's bed, both giggling as if sharing some personal joke.

"We just heard," Rose said, "that you made the team."

"News travels fast," Oliver replied. "How'd you find out, anyway?"

"We saw James in the common room," Katie said. "And he's even muddier than you. Professor Longbottom had to threaten to hex him to get him out of his armchair."

Speaking of the devil, James opened the door–without knocking, as he was always apt to do; James Potter had little respect for privacy, especially when concerning his brother.

"You heard, then," he said suddenly. "I thought you would all be excited." He put his arms on Oliver's shoulders, massaging them a bit, then grinned and said jokingly, "You better not let me down, Wood, or I'll have to write your father." Oliver went pale.

--------------------------

Professor Neville Longbottom couldn't help but stare as Luna Lovegood, the Divination professor, came walking down the hall, surrounded by a group of excitable Ravenclaw girls. She didn't see him as she passed; he quickly pressed himself against the stone wall–then breathed out a sigh of relief as she passed.

"You're swooning again," Teddy said, as he appeared from nowhere.

Neville looked at him, feigning disbelief. "I–I don't know what you mean."

"Luna," Teddy said with a grin. "You. Together. None of those three words appeared in your last thought?"

"Not any," he replied. "Come on; we'll be late for–" He stopped. "Victoire, twelve o'clock–don't look."

Teddy quickly turned around ("I said don't turn around!") and then turned back just as quickly to look at Neville.

"She's with Julian McLaggen," he muttered without moving his mouth, as if he had a sudden case of lockjaw. "The Gryffindor Quidditch captain."

"Good chaser," Neville said. "We're going to win the cup this year–despite what Professor Parkinson says. Nice boy."

"Too nice," Teddy answered. "Too nice, and too good-looking, and too popular for my taste. We're going to get back together, Victoire and I–it's not like it's over."

He, unfortunately, chose that moment to turn around again ("Would you stop doing that?") where he saw Victoire and McLaggen now sitting on a bench outside the Great Hall–looking a bit too cozy for his comfort.

He turned back around to Neville and, again with a clenched jaw, said, "You'll have to tell me what they're doing."

Neville peered over Teddy's shoulder a bit, and said, "They're–ah, they're watching me stare at them."

Teddy turned around, a grotesque smile pasted on his handsome face, and walked over to them. "Miss Weasley, McLaggen. Everything going well, I assume?"

"It's fine, Professor Lupin, thank you," Victoire muttered, shooting him daggers that could mean only one thing–leave.

Teddy saw this of course, but his smile didn't waver even in the slightest. "Miss Weasley, I wanted to talk to you about your vampire essay–if you don't mind."

She looked to McLaggen, gave him a bit of an embarrassed smile, then turned back to Teddy and said, "I do mind, actually. I'm a bit busy. I have your class in ten minutes; can't we just talk then?"

"It'll only take a second–and it's rather urgent."

Victoire went to stand up–but, getting a bit of a sly smile on her face, she kissed McLaggen on the cheek and said, "I'll catch up with you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, all right?"

As soon as he was out of earshot, the smile fell from Teddy's face, and he grabbed her shoulders impulsively. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Let go of me," she said, as she squirmed from his grasp. "Teddy–damn it, he's a nice guy."

"I'm a nice guy."

She sighed with an air of defeat, and said, "All right. You're a nice guy, too."

"You know I love you, Victoire."

"I know you do," she said slowly, "but you said it yourself; we can't be together."

"This year! I only meant this year!"

"And what about next year?" she said. "I want to go abroad, and see the world–and you'll still be here. And the year after that, when I'm working somewhere and living in London, and you're still here. Don't you see a pattern developing?"

Teddy thought for a moment about how to answer the question without incriminating himself. "You staying away from me?"

"Damn it, Teddy."

"All right, all right–I was kidding. Can we talk seriously?"

"Fine."

"I want you," he said, "and I don't care how many foreign fireplaces I have to visit next year, because I want to be with you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, Victoire." He grabbed her hand, dropped to one knee, looked at her lovingly–and then suddenly regretted it, so he stood back up. She rolled her eyes.

"A year," she said, "where I have to call you Professor Lupin. Is that what you want?"

"No," he said, "but that's what we have to do."

"I don't want to do that. I want a boyfriend that I can actually call my boyfriend–and that I can kiss in the hallway, and make love to in the middle of the grounds–"

"–I don't think we should do that again anyway."

"Fine," she said. "But it doesn't change the fact that we can't be together for a year–and I don't want to wait around anymore."

He looked crestfallen, as much as he tried to keep a flickering smile. "What–what are you saying?"

"I guess–I guess I'm saying it's over," she said slowly. "Not for a year, but–over." She threw her arms around his neck, pulled him close, and began crying on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd say that to you," she whispered.

"I never thought you would either," Teddy replied. "But let's be strong now; we have class in five minutes." And they walked–at an arm's length–down the hall to Defense Against the Dark Arts.


	13. Year Two: Chapter Three

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Well, you caught me on two things in the reviews. First, Professor Maxwell is, in fact, Cho Chang under the last name of her deceased husband. She was supposed to have a subplot in a later year, but I think I cut it out anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter that you guys know who she is. And two, I'm sorry if there's a lot of typos. I generally don't edit fan fiction as much as I do my original stuff, and since this is such a big piece and I'm now starting classes, I really haven't even had the time to proofread it. So I apologize for any typos in advance--but I'll try to be a little better at catching them next time. But yeah. Thanks for all the reviews, especially the detailed ones (which any writer loves), and keep them coming!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Three**_

"Today," Teddy told his classroom of second years, some time later, "we're going to begin our chapter on werewolves." He waited for a reaction–there was none. Unfazed, he continued. "This issue holds special place for me, because my father was a werewolf." Hands went up with that. "Yes, Finnigan?"

"Is it hereditary?" Brendan asked.

"Good question–and it may pass to offspring," he said. He gave a bit of a smile, then said, "But don't worry. I'm twenty and I haven't transformed yet–so I think we're all safe."

There was a bit of laughter, and the young professor looked a bit pleased with himself. "I suppose we'll start at the beginning–page three-twenty-three, everybody." A small hum of people moving–then they stopped, and Teddy began again. "All right. Does anyone know how lycanthropy is transmitted?"

The door opened; Charlie Weasley stood there, and Teddy looked a bit taken aback. "Ah–headmaster. What can I do for you?"

"If you would come with me, please," Charlie said. "It's urgent."

"All right," Teddy said. "Class–please start reading up to page three-fifty, and write a quick essay–eighteen inches–on the transmittance of lycanthropy. I'll be back–"

"You might not be," Charlie whispered.

"Dismissed, then," Teddy said loudly–and the class all scrambled to get their bags. He and Charlie politely excused themselves.

------------------------------

"I love getting out of class early," Oliver said. "It's only one-fifteen, and we have the whole afternoon free."

Albus liked class–especially Teddy's–but couldn't say he wasn't happy either. He smiled, and said, "All right–so what are we doing today?"

"Let's play Quidditch," he said. "You and Brendan against me."

"Those teams aren't fair!" Brendan protested.

"I'll manage," Oliver replied.

"I meant for us," he answered.

Oliver gave a bit of a grin, lazily stretched his arms into the air, and said, "I know. I know. I'm just that good. But I'll go easy."

"I don't want to play."

"We'll take it slow," Oliver offered. "You can even use my new broom; it's international standard. My dad gave it to me," he said, "when he found that I made the house team. It's a Silver Ghost–the very best there is. That's what Puddlemere United uses–you know, where my dad is keeper."

"I know," Albus said. "But I don't want to play."

"One on one, then, Bren," Oliver said. With a disapproving look to Albus, he added, "Again."

------------------------------

Teddy was a bit scared as to why Charlie had come to get him–but became less so when he saw the corridor was filled with professors.

"He's the last," Charlie said. "Let's go."

There was a bit of a murmur from the faculty, as they all followed Charlie up the stairs and into the faculty common room. He looked around a bit, then extinguished the fire in the fireplace–just as a precaution.

"There's been an order from the Ministry," he said bluntly, "regarding two precautionary measures that concern us all." He took out a long piece of parchment, and then said, "First, the Ministry shall commission dementors for use outside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry of Magic, Godric's Hollow, and the Leaky Cauldron." A loud cry of displeasure resonated from the faculty. The headmaster silenced them, then said, "I know. I know. They haven't been stationed here in over twenty-five years, but the Ministry is getting desperate. They're dealing with a slew of bad press about being lax on criminals–and now they're trying to fix it. They brought the dementors back to Azkaban this year, and if they can't find Greyback soon, there's going to be even more hell for them." He held up the scroll, read through it a bit, and then said, "And second, the enlargement of the Registry of Magical Creatures to include werewolves–and the curtailing of various liberties on their behalf." He looked right at Teddy, who quickly darted his eyes towards Neville. Charlie cleared his throat, then said, "With Greyback still on the loose–and recruiting, is what we hear–they want to keep better tabs on the werewolves."

"The Ministry had a good run," Neville said loudly, standing up with quite a deal of force. Teddy had never seen him so worked up. "Twenty years it's been cleaned up–and now this?"

"Harry Potter is making a statement tonight on the new statutes," Charlie replied. "And he's still not happy about returning the dementors to Azkaban; he's been fighting tooth-and-nail to get them removed again. He'll have a few choice words for us, I'm sure."

"I knew this would happen," Neville replied, "as soon as they appointed that crock Percy Weasley–" He suddenly looked apologetically to the headmaster, turned a bit pink, and sat back down. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

There was a pause. "It's fine. We're all entitled to our own opinions, aren't we? And if it were up to me–not to speak ill towards my brother, of course–I wouldn't find these restrictions altogether necessary." He began to roll up the parchment. "But, as I'm no Albus Dumbledore, we obey what the Ministry tells us."

"Is that all?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yes," he said. "I cancelled classes because I felt that some of you–" He looked at Neville. "Some of you might need time for it all to sink in before you go back to your students."

Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then "When will the dementors be coming?"

"Next week," Charlie said, "the day after the Halloween Hogsmeade weekend; I don't want to cause a panic. I've arranged for them to stand guard at all entrances to the castle–and students will be told shortly after the dementors arrive. The Ministry reckons it'll be harder for parents to complain if they're already here." He looked out at the dejected faces of his faculty, and said, "Look, you guys, I think this is just as awful as you do. Honest. But we have to do it. Percy would have no qualms about replacing me at the drop of a hat. And you could all do much worse."

Everyone gave a weak smile–but that was it. Sensing the tension, and the fact that it wasn't going away, Charlie quickly ushered them all back to their rooms.

Neville didn't stay long; he knocked on Teddy's door, and then led him outside to the grounds.

"It's a nice day," Neville said. "Warm for October. I just didn't want to be cooped up in the castle, you know?"

"You wanted to talk," Teddy replied. "About the Ministry? Shoot."

Neville shrugged a bit, but then turned to his friend and said, "I'm feeling a little selfish," he said. "But whenever I see the dementors, I see my parents–and they're, well, you know, the way the are. I see them being tortured by–" His lip began to quiver, so he stopped, and looked straight ahead. He continued walking, a bit faster now. "And," he said, "I don't want to have to go through that every time I leave the castle." He shook his head. "Do you think it's for the best that they're here?"

"No," Teddy said. "But catching Greyback is–and, you know, nothing else has worked."

"And the Registry!" Neville gasped. "Teddy, you must be irate."

Teddy looked down at the ground, focusing on his shoes as they trudged through the grass. "Of course I'm upset, Neville–but what is my anger going to do? If Harry can't stop the Ministry, I sure as hell can't."

"Harry will," Neville said confidently. "I know he will."

------------------------------

Albus sat in the bleachers, his head buried in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_–not watching as Brendan unsuccessfully chased Oliver down the Quidditch pitch, his Comet Four-Ninety being no match for Oliver's Silver Ghost. He didn't notice, too, as they came together in mid-air, whispered something to each other, and then flew down alongside Albus–who finally looked up.

"What, are you guys done?"

"You're flying today," Oliver said, as he dismounted his Silver Ghost, leaving it hovering in midair. "You're flying today and I don't want to hear another word about it."

Albus stared at him, open-mouthed, but Oliver seemed insistent. He didn't know what he did–so he just shook his head slowly. "Oliver, I told you–"

"You're a Gryffindor, damn it!" he interrupted. "Start acting like one."

Albus glared at him, then opened his mouth as if to protest–but he couldn't think of anything to say. Without a word, he angrily grabbed the Silver Ghost, and sat down on it–a look of sheer terror on his pale face.

"That's it," Oliver grinned. "Just pull the handle a bit–"

His friend grabbed the handle–and the broom shot up like a bullet. There was a noticeable scream, and then Albus shot back down to earth, landing in a heap in the middle of the pitch. Brendan and Oliver ran out to him–and saw that he was irate.

"You–" he shouted at Oliver. "You!"

"Oh, it's the big scary broom!" called a voice behind him–Scorpius Malfoy. "Wow, Potter, you survived. I'm shocked."

"Shove off, Malfoy," Albus muttered.

But Scorpius continued to smile, and said, "I wonder what Godric Gryffindor would have said if he saw someone from his house screaming like a girl when they rode on a broomstick."

Albus grabbed his wand, lurched forward, and stabbed it against Scorpius's throat. "If you say one more word–"

"You're not going to do anything," Scorpius sneered. "You're not brave, Potter, and everyone knows it. You're all talk."

"He's not worth it," Oliver said to his friend–and he grabbed Albus's arm, and slowly lowered it. "He's just a stupid git from Slytherin–and he's not worth it. Don't even talk to him."

Scorpius was still shouting insults as the three Gryffindors left the pitch.

------------------------------

Neville and Teddy continued their walk–until they saw Victoire and McLaggen, picnicking on the grass. They stayed far enough away for them to be noticed–but Teddy watched as the two seventh years fed each other grapes, other various small fruits–the whole time just inches from each other's lips. Teddy looked away, grabbed Neville's wrist, and pulled him back down the path.

"I'm sorry, Teddy," Neville said. "I know it's not easy for you to see stuff like that."

Teddy frowned a bit, and said, "No–it's not. Victoire and McLaggen, though. Would you ever have seen that coming?"

"Never," Neville replied. "The two of them–"

"She must be doing it to make me jealous–to make me feel guilty."

"I wouldn't say that–"

"No, that's the only explanation," Teddy said. "This changes everything. That bitch!"

There was a long, awkward pause, and Neville studied his colleague's face for a second, then said, "Are you all right? You're not blinking."

"I'm just deciding what to do next," he said. He paused again. "I've got it."

"Got what?"

"What we're going to do."

"We?"

"Oh, yes," Teddy said. "This is a beautiful plan. You know how Victoire is a big fan of the Weird Sisters?"

"I did."

"All right," Teddy continued. "The Weird Sisters are having a reunion concert at the Three Broomsticks this Saturday–Hogsmeade weekend, of course. And I know Gabrielle–sorry, Victoire–will be going, with all of her friends."

"Where do we come in?"

"We're going, too," Teddy replied. "There's going to be witches from all over Britain there, and they'll all be dancing to the music, wishing that they could find some nice strong wizard to hold them all night–and that's where we come in. We'll find the cutest witches in the place–and make Victoire jealous."

"I don't think that will work."

"The beauty," Teddy replied, "is that even if it doesn't work, we get the company of two beautiful girls for the evening, and I'm sure they'll help me forget about Victoire in a hurry. .And there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Neville went a bit scarlet, then said, "I–uh–I've never had great experiences picking up women in pubs."

"Really? I thought you'd be good with women."

"I'm thirty-seven and I've never been married. How's that for good with women?"

"I never thought of that," Teddy said. "I find it so easy."

"That's cause you're you," Neville said. "You're charming, and sophisticated, and–and twenty!" He looked down a bit, then back at Teddy. "Do I have to come?"

"Yes, you have to come! I'll look like a fool if I go down there by myself." He grinned a bit. "And it's all right, Neville. I'll help you find a girl." A bit jokingly, he added, "I'll teach you my ways."

Neville smiled a bit at that. "All right. If you'll help." He paused for a moment. "Maybe I'll ask Luna to come."

"No! That's the last thing we want. As much as I need to forget about Victoire, you need to forget about Luna. You've worked together for ten years, Neville–and has she ever been interested?"

"I think she could be–"

"Neville! You're my friend–and, as a friend, you need to move on. It's been too long. Stop obsessing over her."

"I'm not obsessing."

"I didn't say you were–sorry. But Saturday will be a new leaf for both of us. We'll find new girls–and Victoire will be jealous, and all will be right again with the world."

Neville grinned. "All right. Count me in."


	14. Year Two: Chapter Four

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter Four**_

Halloween rolled arond–but the castle was, unlike most years, absolutely deserted. Everyone–everyone in their third year or above, that is–had left the castle to see the Weird Sisters, which was touted as one of the biggest concerts in the last decade.

Rose seemed the most disappointed that they had to stay behind, sitting in the nearly empty common room. "It's not as if we don't want to see the Weird Sisters," she huffed. "Just because we're twelve–they don't seem to care, do they?"

"We're not old enough to go to Hogsmeade," Oliver replied lazily, as he thumbed through the _Daily Prophet_, looking for the score of the Puddlemere United-Wimbourne Wasps game. "You can't fight the man, Rose."

"Oh, I can if I want to," she said. "Albus–you still have your cloak, don't you?"

"Yes–but my dad told me not to let it out of his sight. And I don't want him to give it to James, now, do I?"

"It doesn't matter if James has it," Rose said, "if you don't use it. Come on–don't you want to live a little? We'll put it on, and sneak upstairs to James's room, find that map thing, and we'll get right out of the castle. What do you think?"

"It sounds risky," Albus said, "and I don't care if I see the Weird Sisters that much."

"The Weird Sisters, Albus!" Katie gasped. "You don't care? They're the biggest act of the last half-century." Albus shrugged.

"Wait–wait!" Oliver suddenly said, putting the newspaper down. "You've got to read this."

**Harry Potter Calls for Percy Weasley's Resignation**

_by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondence_

_LONDON–A spokeswizard for the Ministry of Magic's Department of Aurors has announced that Department head Harry Potter, the famous defeater of You-Know-Who and the subject of the upcoming book _Wounded Soul: The Completely Unbiased Biography of Harry Potter, _by Rita Skeeter, available 15 December–a great holiday gift for that special witch or wizard–has announced his support for the resignation of Minister Percy Weasley. Weasley has only been in office for eighteen months, following the retirement of Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, but has been widely criticized but likewise praised for his handling of the Fenrir Greyback catastrophe that has wrought the wizarding world in the last year. Weasley has authorized the return of the dementors to Azkaban, citing their better safety record and fewer escapes. Further, he has brought the dementors to the entrances of Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic Offices, and other high profile magical locations, to stop Greyback from infiltrating or recruiting, and has announced the inclusion of werewolves to the Registry of Magical Creatures. Werewolves, mistrusted by society for centuries but sought out by Greyback as followers, will be tracked and followed by Ministry officials, and will be excluded from certain locations, namely Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts._

_Hermione Granger, the former head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, current head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and founding chairwitch of the board of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare–_("That's my mum!" exclaimed Rose proudly)–_has joined Potter's cries, declaring the former use of dementors to be among the greatest disgrace in the Ministry's history._

_Minister Weasley's office has released a detailed plan for the capture of Fenrir Greyback, and refused to give a formal statement regarding the complaints of Granger and Potter, stating instead hat their beliefs are archaic and detrimental to the values of modern wizarding society. Weasley is being backed by much of the Ministry, including his younger brother–and Granger's husband–Ronald Weasley, a prominent businessman. His older brother, Charlie Weasley, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has withheld opinions on the matter, but has announced Hogwarts will support whatever the Ministry decides._

_Much remains to be seen–but, despite the protestations of Granger and Potter, the Minister's plans will go into effect as planned on Monday._

Everyone looked to Rose, who shrank back into her armchair. "Dad's a pragmatist," she said plainly.

"The dementors are coming to Hogwarts," Brendan said. "I never would have guessed."

"Of course Hogwarts," Katie said. "Greyback was last seen in the Forbidden Forest, wasn't he?"

"I just wonder why Professor Weasley hasn't told us," Brendan replied. "Didn't he think we'd figure it out?"

"They don't come until Monday," Katie pointed out, "so we could sneak into Hogsmeade, and no one would know."

Rose perked up, probably happy that the conversation had switched form the very public differences of her family, and then said, "Come on, Albus, don't you want to have some sort of adventure once in your life? We're Gryffindors."

That particular line resonated in Albus's head–and made him think of Scorpius's sneer from the Quidditch pitch. He couldn't turn down the offer now–but, but–he had to. He didn't want to go. He couldn't.

"There will be so many professors there," he said. "And older students. And the cloak won't cover five of us, you know? I think we'd better just stay here."

--------------------------

"There she is," Teddy whispered, as he and Neville walked into the Three Broomsticks–much more crowded than they had ever seen it. "She sees me–damn it, she's coming over."

"I'll get drinks," Neville replied hastily. "Firewhisky?"

"Yes, thanks," Teddy said. "Oh, Victoire! I didn't know you'd be here."

She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, tossed it from side to side, and said, "Yes you did. You know how much I love the Weird Sisters."

"I–I just came for some firewhisky," he said. "I didn't even know they'd be here."

"Teddy, I didn't know you were going to make this difficult."

"Make what difficult?"

She rolled her eyes. "Teddy–the breakup. I don't want to have to tell Professor Weasley that you're harassing me, all right?"

"I'm not–" he began. But it was no use; Victoire had already left, going back to her table of seventh years–including, to Teddy's displeasure, McLaggen. Teddy couldn't even watch as the two of them began to cuddle up in their booth; he turned around, coming face to face with Neville.

Teddy grabbed both of the firewhiskies, downed them both in record time, and handed the empty cups back to Neville, who looked a bit surprised.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but to hell with that bitch."

"Who?"

"Victoire." He grabbed back the empty cups, said, "I'll get another round," and skulked away.

Luna Lovegood chose this moment to approach Neville–who suddenly went very pink and tried to make himself invisible.

"Neville!" she said, in her very whispy, whimsical voice. "I didn't know you would be here. Are you here alone?"

"No, no," he answered quickly. "Teddy is–around."

She didn't seem to believe him, but gave him a kind smile, and motioned to the man next to her–tall, broad, handsome, wearing a straw hat and lots and lots of khaki. "This is Rolf Scamander," she said, "my boyfriend."

Neville's jaw dropped a bit, and he tried to contain the look of shock on his face and piece together something to say–but he couldn't; his attempted intelligent response just came out, "Mif–fle."

"It's nice to meet you," Rolf said, in a thick Australian accent, putting his hand out for Neville to shake. Neville attempted to crack a smile–but he felt like he just failed miserable, looking a bit creepy, because Rolf gave him an odd look, and withdrew his hand.

Teddy reappeared over Neville's shoulder, introduced himself to Luna and Rolf, and handed Neville a firewhisky.

"We'd better be going," Luna said quickly. "I'll see you two at the castle."

"Bye Luna!" Neville called, as the two began to walk away. "Bye Raymond."

Rolf Scamander turned around, glared at Neville, then disappeared into the crowd with Luna.

"Smooth," Teddy said.

"To quote you," Neville replied, as he touched the firewhisky glass to his lips, "to hell with that bitch." He chugged the entire cup, and then the two of them sat down at a table in the corner.

--------------------------

"And then, what else was I supposed to do but become a professor?" Professor Justin Finch-Fletchley said, finishing off another one of his long stories.

Gabrielle wasn't paying attention; she nodded, smiled–but it was a bit too late. Justin noticed.

"What's wrong today, darling?" he asked. "You seem preoccupied."

"I–no, I'm not."

He turned around to see what she was looking at–and saw Teddy and Neville. He looked back, and she turned a bit red. "I was just–well, I know things have been rough between Teddy and Victoire lately. And, of course, I can't help but get in the middle of it; Teddy's one of my best friends, and Victoire's my niece. It's just–it's difficult."

"I'm sorry," he said. "So, did I ever tell you about the time Ernie and I set off a hundred dungbombs in the third floor corridor during our fourth year?"

Gabrielle said nothing; she continued to stare, and her boyfriend continued to talk.

Suddenly, she interrupted him. "Justin–where are we?"

"Three Broomsticks, I think."

"I meant us."

"Us?" he said. "Where are we? I– I don't really like these conversations."

"I think it's important," she said. She suddenly smiled. "No–forget I mentioned it. I just want to have a fun evening."

"All right," he said. "So me and Ernie were really angry at Filch and we had just got back from Zonko's…"

"Look at them," Teddy whispered, as he discreetly pointed towards a table of three attractive witches, who were all sipping on their neon-colored drinks–changing colors every couple seconds–with little umbrellas sticking out of them.

"There's three of them."

"We'll ditch the brunette, then," he said. "She's a little old, anyway; she must be at least thirty. I call the blonde–but you can have the redhead."

"I kind of like the brunette," Neville replied. "She looks closer to my age."

"So you're leaving me with two girls?"

"That a problem?"

"No–I was just clarifying."

They both stood up, grabbed their firewhiskies, and stumbled–both a bit tipsy by this point, especially Teddy–over to the girls' table.

"Hello, there," Teddy said, as they approached. The girls turned around, and they all smiled a bit. "I'm Teddy Lupin, and this is my good friend Neville Longbottom–and we were wondering if we could buy you girls another round of drinks."

The blonde looked down at hers, which was still mostly full, then said, "We just got these–but want to stick around until we're done?"

Teddy grinned a bit, sat down between the blonde and the redhead, and said, "We'd love to."

Neville uncomfortably sat down next to the brunette, who grinned a bit at him.

"I know," she said. "I feel weird coming up to people in bars, too."

That seemed to break the awkwardness a bit; he laughed a bit, and said, "Well, Teddy's so good at this sort of thing–but I always feel so awkward."

"Oh, you and me both," she said. "I'm Allison Doge."

"Neville Longbottom."

"So you're a professor," she replied. "At Hogwarts, right?"

"Teddy and I both are."

"All right," she said. "Because I'm here with my cousins tonight–and we have a niece who's a first year, and I feel like she's mentioned you."

"She might have," Neville said, going a bit red. "It's the weekend, so Teddy and I decided to hit the town."

"You picked a good spot," she said. "Say–you're done with your firewhisky–and I finished my drink. Do you want me to get another round?"

"I thought I was supposed to do that."

Allison gave him a bit of a grin, then said, "It's all right. You can get the next one." And she took the empty glasses, and went over to the bar.

Neville was smiling by this point, and he leaned over to tell Teddy–but Teddy seemed a bit preoccupied with the two other girls; the redhead was hanging on his shoulder, whispering something into his ear, and he was just inches from the blonde's mouth, who seemed to be in the middle of a story that he clearly wasn't listening to.

Victoire and McLaggen came back up–and Neville could see that she had a look of horror on her face.

"I never knew," McLaggen said, with an admiring smirk, "that Professor Lupin was such a dog."

Victoire elbowed him firmly in the stomach, and skulked away.


	15. Year Two: Chapter Five

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter Five**_

"And Gryffindor leads Ravenclaw, forty to twenty," shouted Teddy, as he craned his body over the railing of the staff box to get a better look at the game he was announcing. "Ravenclaw's Quaffle again–Chaser Carmichael up the middle–and another close miss by McLaggen, but he gets it. It's a surprise they only scored two so-far, with McLaggen's sloppy–" Neville punched him in the ribs, and Teddy glared at him–but didn't miss a beat with his announcing. "Gryffindor's Quaffle now; they're giving it to Chaser Oliver Wood, Jr., making his Gryffindor team debut today." He paused to allow for a raucous cheer from the Gryffindors. "Wood up the right side–oh, and he's hit by a Bludger–but he recovers the Quaffle anyway. He's shooting–and a miss by Wood, but still Gryffindor's Quaffle–recovered by Chaser Emma Linden. She passes to Wood, and Wood scores. Fifty to twenty, Gryffindor.

"And still no sign of the Snitch–but Seeker James Potter seems to be occupying the time up there."

He was, Albus silently agreed; James, a much better seeker than the Ravenclaw joke, was lazily biding his time until the Snitch was spotted; he was doing what he always did during this point of the Quidditch match–standing on his broomstick, his arms in the air–a thing he liked to call "broom surfing." And he was flying down in front of the cheering Gryffindors now–even jumping a couple inches into the air a few times, just for good measure. He had a big smile on his face, Albus could see; James always loved attention, loved applause.

Then, something caught James's eye–a flicker of gold. He jumped back down onto his broomstick, and sped off, the Ravenclaw seeker at his heels.

"Potter sees something–and he's off. Has he–yes, he has! Potter catches the Snitch, and Gryffindor wins, two-hundred to twenty."

He didn't say anything more–but if he had, he would have been drowned out by the screams from the Gryffindor side of the pitch. The Gryffindor Quidditch team had not been the same team as Harry Potter's days at Hogwarts–quite the opposite actually; they rarely won a game, and would even lose to Hufflepuff by hundreds of points on a good day. But not today–today, they had won. They had won by a lot–played flawlessly. It was more than just a win for Gryffindor; it was the start of a new leaf, a new Quidditch dynasty.

Albus, Brendan, Katie, and Rose all went down to the pitch, fighting the crowds on the stairs–but they finally came down to Oliver–a lingering stench pouring out from his sweaty Quidditch robes, but a big smile on his face nevertheless. "Did you see that?" he yelled, as they approached–and then enveloped them all in a giant hug. "I made three goals–and on my first game!"

"Good job, Ol," Katie said.

"Only five goals by Gryffindor–and three of them were mine, can you believe it?" he exclaimed, still shouting pretty loudly. "Oh, I can't wait to see my dad. Did you see where he's sitting?"

There was a bit of an awkward silence, as everyone broke away from Oliver's embrace.

"An owl came for you," Albus said slowly, "right after you went down to the pitch–and I didn't mean to look, but–"

Oliver frowned a bit. "He couldn't come–oh, no, Albus, it's fine. I half-expected it, anyway." He put on a smile–but this one a bit fake, a bit plastic, especially when compared to the excited smile he wore just seconds ago. "He's so busy–being an international Quidditch superstar isn't a walk in the park, you know." He gave a hearty, if pressed, laugh, and said, "It's fine." He blinked a couple of times, recharged his smile, and then finished, "I have to hit the showers. I'll meet you upstairs, okay?"

He didn't wait for a response; he turned his head away, then ran across the pitch as fast as he could, forgetting that he had left his broomstick behind. Albus picked it up for him.

James came sauntering over, juggling the Snitch in one hand, holding his broomstick with the other.

With a smug grin, he said, "You weren't thinking of flying, little bro, were you?"

"You know me," Albus said slowly. "Oliver just forgot it. He ran off."

McLaggen came up behind James, clapped his star seeker on the back, and said, "Another great finish, Potter. We're going to have a shot at the cup this year, I know it." His eyes fixated on Albus, holding Oliver's broomstick, and he gave a bit of a patronizing smile. "Eh, Potter, I thought you said your geeky little brother was scared to death of anything airborne." He gave a bit of a chuckle, reenacted a fall from a broomstick, and James smiled–but turned a bit red.

Albus hitched up a smile–which he feared was even faker than Oliver's–and said, "I was just holding this for Oliver while he showered."

McLaggen looked over to the locker rooms, leaning even more on James's shoulder, then said, "He's friends with Oliver? I never would have guessed it. I mean, Oliver's so cool–for a second year."

"All right, McLaggen," James said sternly. "I think we should hit the showers too–"

"Oh, come off of it, Potter," McLaggen said, still focusing maliciously on James. "Even you said that your brother is lamer than–"

"That's enough!" James hollered. Without another word–not so much as a farewell to Albus, he grabbed McLaggen by the shirt collar, and pulled him away.

Albus stood there, cold, unfeeling–and he didn't know why. He felt sad, but a little empty–and that wasn't normal for him. He should have been devastated, and he knew that, but he had somehow passed that, and the whole conversation still wasn't registering in his head. He just stood there–and he didn't even think he was showing emotion, until he felt a drop of water running down his hot cheek. He blinked a couple of times, pasted that smile onto his face, and turned towards his friends. "You all go back up. I'm going to give this broom back to Oliver before I forget."

The three others stood there motionless, not quite sure of what to say–but it didn't matter; within an instant, Albus disappeared into the crowd of exiting Gryffindors.

He reappeared about five minutes later, a bit away from the crowd–where he was surprised to see a seated figure, clad in scarlet Quidditch robes, on the edge of the lake.

"I thought you went to take a shower," Albus said slowly, as he approached.

Oliver turned around slightly, his eyes red and puffy and his cheeks stained with the remnants of several tears. "Go away, Albus," he said softly. He dipped his bare feet back into the lake, splashing a little, and then let them rest on the rocky bottom.

"Come on," Albus said, as he sat down next to Oliver and began to remove his own sneakers. "Don't get mad at me because your dad sucks."

"He doesn't suck," Oliver said slowly. He paused, smiled a bit ironically, and said, "All right–he does suck. Damn it, he sucks a lot. But this is Quidditch. He said he was going to come; he said he wouldn't miss it for the world. That's what his owl said, and you saw it! This was my first game, Albus–and I did great. Three goals! And he missed it."

"I wish my family wasn't always around," he said. "Count your blessings sometimes."

"It's all what you don't have, I guess," Oliver replied. "But at least you have a dad who loves you, you know?"

"At least you don't have a brother who thinks you're the biggest loser to ever walk the grounds at Hogwarts."

"He said that?"

"McLaggen did," Albus replied. "And–I don't know, whenever James used to get mad at me, he would tell me I was uncool, or lame, or something–just because I read and can't fly. And he would always apologize for it afterwards, saying it was just the heat of the moment–but I always thought that if he didn't really think those things on some level, he never would have said it. You know? And McLaggen couldn't have just been making those things up. Not like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Well, I'm sorry, anyway," he said. "But, if it means anything, I think you're the coolest person I know, Albus." With a grin, he added, "Even if I can't get you on a broomstick for more than ten seconds."

"And I'll come to your games," Albus replied, "even if your dad doesn't."

Oliver grinned at his friend. "Are you okay?"

"I am now–are you?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm okay."

"Good," Albus replied. "Because you really stink, Wood."

"I decided to break up with Justin," Gabrielle announced, as she and Teddy walked along the lake shortly after the game.

Teddy looked a bit surprised. "Really?"

"He's just–I don't know. I can't describe it. I've been meaning to do it since Halloween?"

"It's December," Teddy replied. "And you still haven't done it?"

"I know," she said. "I've been stringing him along for over a month. But I'm so bad at breaking up with people. They never take it well."

"You're part-veela," Teddy replied. "How could they take it well?"

She gave a sly smile, then said, "You know I'm not like that, Teddy. I told you a million times; I only want to be loved for my brains, not my grandmother's species." She tossed her long blonde hair from side to side, and said, with mock arrogance, "Did I ever tell you about the time they asked me to be a model for Gladrags?"

"Now you're just bragging."

"I know," she teased. "I just don't think Justin quite gets me yet."

"You've been dating a year," Teddy replied. "If he doesn't get you yet, you're in pretty big trouble."

"Well–I suppose, that's not the only reason."

"No?"

"I've–" she began. She stopped, itched her nose a bit, then looked off at the lake. "I think I've fallen for someone else, if you must know the truth."

"Really?" Teddy asked. Gabrielle turned a bit red, and continued to look away. "It's Neville, isn't it? I knew it!"

Gabrielle's eyes grew wide, and she opened her mouth, as if to protest–but Charlie appeared in front of them.

"Nice day for a walk, isn't it?" he said. "Unseasonably warm for December."

"Quite warm," Gabrielle replied. "If you could excuse us, though, Charlie. I was just about to tell Teddy–er, something."

"Oh, Teddy," Charlie replied. "That reminds me. Two girls stumbled out of my fireplace this morning–both looking for you. A blonde and a redhead? It seemed they both wanted to have a date with you tonight." With an added wink, he said, "Both of them together."

Teddy turned red, and looked to Gabrielle, who was suddenly very stiff and emotionless.

"Naturally, I told them they had the wrong fireplace," Charlie replied. "But they were insistent; it seems they thought you told them you were the headmaster of Hogwarts." He gave another wink, and then said, "Imagine that." He cleared his throat loudly, then said, "All right–I'll leave you two to your walk, then." And he walked up the hill to the castle rather quickly.

"Two girls," Gabrielle repeated.

"We met at the Weird Sisters concert," Teddy quickly explained. "It's–not like it sounds."

"How does it sound, Teddy?"

"Like I–like I was with both of them," he replied. "Which–well, I was, but you need to know the whole situation, I suppose. I had just seen Victoire with McLaggen, and I had a lot to drink, and–"

She forced a grin to her face, then said, "Relax, Teddy. I'm not your mother. I'm not going to ask questions. I'm not going to judge." She suddenly looked down at her watch. "Oh, I have an meeting."

"With who?'

"With–my meeter," she replied quickly. "I'll see you later, Teddy."


	16. Year Two: Chapter Six

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**(A quite long) Author's Note:** _Again, I humbly thank all of you for the great reviews. I got a couple reviews with some interesting questions asked of me, so I, as usual, will answer them now. First, I guess the biggest point is to remember that you, as the reader, must always suspend disbelief in fiction, especially in fan fiction. Obviously things are going to be a little too simple and coincidental sometimes, but it's a fan fic. Slight clichés are part of the genre, if I want to keep with the tone of the series I'm, essentially, mimicking._

_As for the characters, I don't like to create too many new characters if I can use old ones, just because I feel fan fic should mostly serve to expand on the characters and fictitious world that we love. In that vein, a lot of characters from the novels make cameos, which can seem a bit easy at points, but it's a fan fic, and I like to keep as many characters featured as I can, even if they only have quick appearances. I assume that, had you wanted to read about original characters, you would go and read my stuff on FictionPress, not my HP fan fics._

_And, as for Gabrielle, Justin, and Pansy being cliché, I'm not so sure if I agree. They're pretty marginal characters in the novels, after all, and I can't recall another story that uses them as professors. I wanted to fill the faculty with more interesting characters though, just for the story's sake; who wants to read about McGonagall and Flitwick's personal lives? Luna's choice was, of course, so I could use Neville's hinted-at feelings for Luna—which necessitated her being a professor. Since Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology were taken, as per the epilogue, I chose divination. Not a huge stretch, I think, considering her personality. She is still dating Rolf Scamander, and will become more of a naturalist in the future. But yeah, again, just suspend disbelief on the faculty, because it makes for a far better story. Keep that in mind about Percy, too. His ambition and reactionist ideas are just much more fun to work with than Kingsley's unwavering goodness. Plus, it's been twenty years, and it's unlikely a modern world leader would serve two decades in office. And Percy was high up in Kingsley's Ministry, so he could be a realistic successor._

_Now, as for Albus—I have taken some heat for his characterization. But I said before that I didn't want to create another Harry Potter. I mean, Albus grew up as a middle child—wealthy, very overprotected, coddled, overshadowed by his brother, and born to famous parents—so, logically, he wouldn't grow up to be a carbon copy of his dad. Their upbringings were totally different. He's flawed, maybe a bit of a prick at this point, but he'll have his shining moments. If you didn't like the story, thought it a "slap to the face" by any means, then I, though surprised by this claim, genuinely apologize. Perhaps, in a later review—if you choose to keep reading, that is—you can tell me what I should fix so that it's less offensive or cliché? I'm always open to new ideas._

_Wow, much longer than I thought it would be. I was just really surprised by those reviews and just wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings. But do keep the reviews coming, including the overtly critical "flames." If you hate my story, I'd like to know that, too. It all helps. But anyway, without further ado, your regularly scheduled programming._

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter Six**_

Christmas at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was always a crowded affair–but this year was different. Fenrir Greyback had been spotted near Godric's Hallow, after biting and taking a young boy hostage–so Percy had gone up there to smooth things over. Harry would have gone, too–but he had promised, after all the horrible Dursley family Christmases he endured in his youth, that he would never miss Christmas with his family. That, of course, and he knew Ginny would murder him if he missed Christmas. But that didn't stop others from missing the holidays; even Molly and Arthur were gone this year–visiting Spain with Fred and his wife, Romilda–and Bill and Fleur had gone to France to spend Christmas with the Delacours. Teddy and Charlie were staying at Hogwarts, and Hermione, Ron, Rose and Hugo, too, were spending Christmas with their Muggle relatives–much to Rose and Hugo's displeasure, of course, because the Grangers always gave them such long lectures on the evils of sugar whenever they got any Christmas candy. But, at any rate, that meant, this year, it was just the Potters. And Oliver, of course, who had been invited to another Christmas; his dad was playing in the Quidditch Christmas Classic again, held in Africa this year–and, though Oliver could have asked to come along if he wanted, he was much happier to stay behind in London.

Oliver and Albus were coming down the stairs, when the door to Harry's study opened in front of them. He stuck his head out at the boys, then said, "Your mother wants you to help Lily set the table. Dinner's going to be in about thirty minutes." He grinned, as he ushered them inside the study. "Kreacher's been cooking up a storm all day–and it smells delicious."

"Turkey?" Albus asked, as he and Oliver sat down on the small leather couch against the window.

"Oh, of course," Harry replied. "It's Christmas, after all." He grinned. "Oliver, the score from the Quidditch Christmas Classic is in–Europe won, two-hundred to zero."

"Oh, wow!" Oliver exclaimed. "He didn't let any goals in?"

"No," Harry answered, "and the game was over pretty fast, apparently. I just got an owl from the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"They're not out hunting for Greyback, too?"

"No–no, not their department."

"Why aren't you there, Dad?" Albus asked.

"Because it's Christmas," he said. "And I never had my dad around for Christmas–and I'll be damned if I let the same thing happen to you."

Oliver shrunk back a bit, and began studying the quilt intently. Both Harry and Albus looked at each other–a bit awkward. Harry cleared his throat, then continued, "Greyback can wait for one night, can't he? I'd rather be here with you guys."

"Why haven't they been able to find Greyback?"

"It's complicated, Albus–dead complicated. No one knows what he's after. He's trying to wrangle up an army of werewolves–but no one knows where, when, or how he's going to do that. And he's a master at disguise, it turns out. A year he's been broken out–and scarcely anyone's seen him." He shook his head. "No, we can only patrol the areas where we think he might want to go–Hogwarts, the Ministry, Diagon Alley–and hope for the best. That's all we can do at this point, I think."

"If the dementors only were still in Azkaban," Albus said, "he wouldn't have escaped, would he?"

Harry frowned at his son, and his tone of voice suddenly became much more stern. "Don't say that, Albus. You don't know what the hell you're talking about." Albus looked shocked–his father never yelled at him, was never curt with him. Harry noticed Albus's look–and quickly forced his mouth into a smile, then said, "Oh, I'm sorry, Al–dementors are just a sticky issue with me, you know." He leaned down, kissed his son on the top of the head, then stood up and said, "But dinner–in a half hour. Don't be late or your mum will skin me."

Ginny's voice echoed through the study, calling for her husband; he dutifully got up and left the study, to see what the fuss was about.

Albus squinted across the room, to the bottom right corner of the wall behind Harry's desk; some of the meticulous red damask wallpaper had become dislodged near the baseboard–and Albus could see a bit of gold shining through.

"What do you suppose that is?" he whispered. Oliver shrugged–and Albus stood up, went over to the bit of torn wallpaper, and crouched down low. He peeled it back with his hand, just a bit, and felt a bit of rough cloth on the wall. He kept ripping, only vaguely aware that he would have to find a way to fix it when he was done, and tore away a large enough chunk to see the words "Albus Potter" appear, in gold, loopy writing.

"It says my name," Albus called. "Come here and see this!"

Oliver crawled over, studied the name, and peeled back the wallpaper a little more–revealing the names "James Potter" and "Lily Potter." They were all connected, by a single line, to a double line that connected "Ginevra Weasley" and a large burn mark–and then the names of the rest of the Weasleys.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Harry gasped, as he came into the room. "You're ripping up half my study!"

Albus and Oliver crawled back a bit, then looked up at Harry.

"What's behind the wallpaper?" Albus asked, pointing at his name.

"Oh," Harry said. "It's the Black family tree–your mother's on it." He shook his head. "We covered it up ages ago with the wallpaper." He pointed to the burn mark next to "Ginevra Weasley." "See? It burned me off because I'm a half-blood." He, then, pointed at the names of his three children. "And you're all still on here because you're a pure-blood." He tapped his wand to the wallpaper, which recoiled like a giant map, rolling up to the top of the wall. Albus stepped back a bit, as he saw the "Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" family tree tapestry looming above him.

"There's Grandma," he said, pointing to "Margaret Prewett," which was joined by a double line to "Arthur Weasley." He ran his finger up the chart to "Katherine Carrow," and then said, "And that's Katie. I didn't know she was related."

"Distantly," Harry explained. "All pure-blood families are related. She couldn't be more than an eighth cousin though, by the looks of it."

Albus ran his hand up from Katie's name, to "Thomas Carrow" and a black burn, and then–

"Holy crap!" he whispered. Above Thomas Carrow were the names "Alecto Carrow" and "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"Nothing–nothing," Albus replied. "You can put the wallpaper back now."

The Great Hall, for Christmas dinner, was just about empty; only eight of them were actually staying for the holidays–Charlie, Neville, and Teddy, with five students–two giggly Ravenclaw first years, a burly Slytherin sixth year, and two third year twins from Hufflepuff. They were all sitting at a small, circular table in the center of the cavernous room. The students ate quickly, disappeared, leaving only the three professors.

"It's funny like this," Charlie said, as he stuffed his mouth full of chicken. "I'm always used to such loud Christmases." He grinned. "Except this one year, when I was in Romania, and I ate my dinner alone from a paper bag."

"Why'd you leave?" Teddy asked.

"Leave what–Romania?"

"Yeah," he said. "It just sounds so–incredible."

"It was," he replied. "I've always been the outdoorsy type, you know. I miss it sometimes–sometimes a lot. Like I came here to teach Care of Magical Creatures when Hagrid back took a year off–and I was supposed to go back to Romania right afterwards. But McGonagall then retired, and she recommended me for the headmastership." He gave a bit of a shrug, then said, "And my mum wanted me to stay in England so badly that I just did it to get her off my back." He saw the expressions on Teddy and Neville's face, and quickly added, "But I enjoy it now."

"You like it?"

"Yeah," he said, stuffing his mouth full of potatoes. "It's not quite as exciting as working with dragons, you know, but it's good. It's just–it's a little lonely, sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said thoughtfully, "do you know how many people on our faculty have families? None." He shrugged again. "And the governors mandate that the headmaster resides on the grounds whenever there are students here–so there's no point in hoping for anything, either, is there?" He gave a thin, gaunt smile. "No, but it's okay. I love what I do." He leaned back lazily in his chair, a cigar appearing in his hand as if from nowhere–but then he looked down at his watch, and scrambled to stand up. "That reminds me," he said. "I promised Mum I'd pop into her fireplace today–for Christmas, you know. I'll see you both later." And he left the hall, leaving just Neville and Teddy alone at the table.

Teddy turned to Neville, and said, "You don't really think professors are as lonely as he says, do you? We could have families, if we wanted."

"I'll have Mrs. Longbottom get back to you," he replied acidly.

"Oh, Neville, I only meant–"

"It's fine," he replied. "I have to go, though. I have somewhere to go."

"On Christmas?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm going to St. Mungo's–to visit some people."

"Your parents?" There was a long pause. "I'm–I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. That was very rude of me."

"No," he said. "It's fine." He gave a bit of a smile. "You can co

me, if you like. I think they'd like to meet you."

Teddy stiffened a bit. "You talk about me?"

"Sometimes," he replied. "You, Charlie, and Gabrielle. I talk about all of you."

Teddy smiled a bit–then shook his head. "I'd rather not, Neville, if it's all the same. I have a lot of papers to read before the term starts."

Neville looked a bit sad, Teddy thought, but continued smiling anyway. "All right," he replied. "I'm going to St. Mungo's, then. And I'm going to visit Gran's grave afterwards, too–so I'll be gone a while. But game of Exploding Snap when I get back?"

Teddy grinned. "All right. I'll stay up."


	17. Year Two: Chapter Seven

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Just to answer a few things. Yes, Albus is pure-blood, as someone already said. It's kind of like the 17th Century Spanish caste system, where you can eventually return to blood purity. Since Albus's four grandparents all could practice magic, he is a pure-blood. As for the whole family tree thing--it's not my favorite episode so far in this series, but the best way for Albus to accidentally stumble upon Katie's family history. Lord Voldemort is, essentially, Katie's grandfather, and Thomas Carrow was the illegitimate child of Alecto Carrow and Lord Voldemort, and was named after his father.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter Seven**_

When they all got back from their holiday, even Albus was surprised with how much work the teachers were loading on them. Essays for every subject, all due within a week. But Teddy, at least, had been sympathetic; he had granted them all an extension on their Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. He was just about to take a break, when Oliver came bursting into the room, holding his Silver Ghost in hand.

"My dad's coming!" he shrieked. "He's coming to the Quidditch game tomorrow."

Albus rolled over lazily, looked at him a bit disbelievingly, and said, "Oliver–he said that last time, you know?"

"No, but this time he really is!" Oliver replied, still screaming so that Brendan, deep in work on his charms essay, threw a Quaffle at him. Oliver caught it, grinned wider, and juggled it in his hand a bit. "He's on the England national team, and they were supposed to play Australia–but Australia's getting hit by typhoons all week! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Wonderful"

"So now, his game's been cancelled, and he's coming–he's coming here! To see me play the Slytherins!"

-----------------------------------

Teddy and Gabrielle sat on opposite sides of the faculty common room, not really looking at each other–hell, they hadn't even had a decent conversation since that day by the lake, that last Quidditch game. She wasn't really watching him–deeply reading a heavily beaten up copy of _The Potions of the Sierra Madre_, curled up underneath a thick quilt. Teddy had a big stack of essays from his sixth-years to read–but he couldn't even begin to focus on them. He just kept staring, staring up at Gabrielle.

She finally noticed, giving him a thin smile. "What's on your mind?" she asked, closing her book.

"Nothing–don't stop reading just for me."

"I didn't," she said, as she picked up both _Close Encounters of the Goblin Kind_ and _The Silence of the Hags_, chose the former, and then finished, "I had just finished my book."

"Was it–was it good?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I've read it a thousand times before though. You wouldn't like it; it's a potions book." She tossed him _The Silence of the Hags_, and said, "Try this one."

He chucked it back at her–she caught it with her left hand, then set it down. "I have too many essays to read."

"That'll be me in a week," she said lazily, as she opened her new book. "My fifth, sixth, and seventh years all have papers due." She began to read a bit, and Teddy looked nervously from his big stack of papers to Gabrielle–and then she slammed her book shut again. "All right," she said. "There's something bothering you, and I want to know what it is."

Teddy said nothing; he only shook his head. She didn't take that for an answer; she stood up, came around to him, and squeezed next to him on the wide armchair, so they were both squashed in tightly. She put her feet up on the coffee table, and then said, "This is better, don't you think?"

"Gabrielle, we haven't talked since–"

"There you two are!" Neville said, coming quickly down the stairs in a pair of bright blue pajamas patterned with little toads–Teddy had to contain himself from laughing–and sat down in the chair across from them. "I just finished grading all my seventh years' essays, and I know it's late, but I figured you'd be awake still–aren't you two uncomfortable like that?"

Gabrielle turned a bit pink, stood up, and went back to her original chair. "I was just telling Teddy something."

Neville grinned, leaned in, and rubbed his hands together. "Ooh–what?"

But he never got an answer; at that moment, Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander came up the spiral staircase in the corner of the room.

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed. "I didn't know any of you would be awake still."

"How's your night been, Luna?" Neville asked breathily, turning an odd shade of grayish purple.

"Oh, fine, thanks," she replied. With a grin, she held up a small bag of carrots, and said, "Rolf thinks he figured out what Nargles eat–so we're going to stick his carrot in my cage, and see if it comes during the night!"

Teddy snorted into his pile of essays, but Luna and Rolf, already halfway up the stairs, didn't seem to notice. He turned towards Neville, gave him a big grin, and said, "I bet you wish you could stick your carrot inside her cage, too."

Neville punched him in the arm.

-----------------------------------

The Gryffindor-Slytherin game was always a bit of a bloodbath–it had been for centuries. And today was no different. Teddy had stopped even trying to count penalties, because there was one every few seconds–and, finally, Charlie had to shout that anyone who made another intentional penalty would be thrown out of the game and given detention. The game calmed down a bit after that. But it was still tied, two-hundred to two-hundred, and no one had so much as seen the Snitch yet.

Oliver Wood, Sr., dressed in his old Gryffindor Quidditch robes, which still fit him like a glove even twenty-five years later, was standing behind Brendan, Rose, Katie, and Albus–and he was standing up, shouting wildly. "Pass it to Oliver–what the hell are you doing? Madam Hooch, you call that a call?"

Albus didn't really say anything to Mr. Wood. This was his first time meeting the man, after all, and they had only met for a few seconds; the younger Oliver had quickly introduced them, then practically skipped off with his dad around the grounds. Albus didn't like that–he didn't like how Oliver went gaga every time his dad showed him the slightest bit of attention, because he knew that it would only make the eventual disappointment greater. No, Albus had consoled Oliver too many times for him to actually like his father. Not that Oliver Wood, Sr., wasn't a nice guy; on the contrary, Albus found him very pleasant–just a bit Quidditch-obsessed, even if Quidditch came at the expense of his own son's well-being.

"Chaser Wood shoots it through the middle–blocked by Keeper Nott, who passes it to Chaser Greengrass, and then back to Chaser–oh, and Gryffindor recovers. Chaser Wood on a breakaway, up the middle–and he scores. Two-hundred-ten to two-hundred in this high-stakes game today," Teddy hollered across the stadium, amid the shrieks and cheers of the Gryffindor team. "But there's still no sign of the Snitch."

"We've been here three hours," Albus yawned, "and there's still no Snitch. How much longer do you think it'll go on?"

"Could be a while," Brendan answered. "You know–Quidditch games could last forever."

"But I have an essay to finish."

"It's not due until Tuesday. Do it tomorrow–that's when Oliver and I will be doing it."

"I like to get a head start. You know that."

Brendan shook his head, and went back to watching the game.

"Shoot it, Oliver!" screeched Mr. Wood–quieting the entire Gryffindor section–but only momentarily, for the silence was followed by a loud sigh of disappointment when Oliver, flustered, dropped the Quaffle and nearly fell off his broom. Mr. Wood sat back down, shaking his head and cursing slightly under his breath. Albus tried not to listen to him–but the whole thing was making him awfully uncomfortable, and awfully sorry for Oliver.

"Want to take a walk?" he whispered to Brendan.

Brendan glanced up at Mr. Wood, who was nervously chewing on the edge of his wand, and slowly nodded. "All right."

They stayed in the pitch–Brendan didn't want to miss any of the game–so they resorted to taking laps around the stands. Which worked out fine, of course, when they passed through the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections, but was definitely a bit harder when they approached the Slytherins, who were all loudly booing the Gryffindor chasers.

"Maybe we should go back around the other way," Albus said to Brendan.

Before Brendan could respond, Scorpius Malfoy stood up near them.

"Too scared to walk past a bunch of Slytherins, Potter?" he shouted. The Slytherin section laughed–and Albus felt his face growing a bit red. He fumbled for the wand in his pocket–but didn't grab it. He just let his arm hang uselessly at his side–and Scorpius seemed to notice that too. "Don't be scared; that's just your wand, Potter–it's not a broom."

Albus closed his eyes a bit, turned around, and walked back towards the Ravenclaw section–fully aware of the shouts of cowardice that seemed to echo through the stadium from Scorpius's mouth.

Gryffindor won the match–by a hundred and twenty points–but that didn't seem to satisfy Oliver's dad. As a chaser, he told Oliver, his job was to make sure that his team would win even if they didn't catch the Snitch. A hundred and twenty point victory was good–but not good enough, especially if Oliver wanted to play Quidditch professionally–or so his dad reminded him.

That left Oliver a bit depressed for the next two weeks–and it didn't help that, due to the mounds of homework they still had to do, he didn't get a chance to talk it out, as he so often liked to do. He just sat there, on his bed, brooding, ferociously scribbling out essays. Albus tried to say a few kind, choice words to Oliver–but Oliver had responded with a bitter, "You wouldn't understand." And Albus had to admit he didn't; his dad had spent the last fourteen years, since James was born, being the model father–trying to be the father that he never had, making sure his children grew up knowing, if only one thing, the fact that their father loved them. It was a nice thought, Albus knew–but he also agreed that he couldn't understand Oliver's situation. Harry was always proud of Albus, even if he screwed up pretty royally–but, it seemed, nothing Oliver could do was good enough for Mr. Wood. And there was the whole thing with Oliver's mother, the late Alicia Spinnet-Wood. Albus had never lost a family member, let alone a parent–but he could imagine how Ginny's death could conceivably estrange Harry from his children. No. He didn't understand–and he stopped talking to Oliver after that; he just let him sit on his bed, working in silence. He had far too much work to do anyway.

He began working on his essay again for Professor Maxwell–when he was interrupted by Rose, who came racing into the room, clutching the _Daily Prophet_ in her hand.

"Did you hear?" she panted, throwing the newspaper down at the foot of Albus's bed. "Did you hear?"

Albus didn't know what she was talking about–so he craned his neck, looked at the front page story.

**Greyback Strikes Again**

_by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_

_LONDON–Feared werewolf Fenrir Greyback has reportedly struck again–right under the nose of the Ministry officials. Witnesses confirm that Fred Weasley, 6, the son of noted businessman and co-founder of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, George Weasley, was abducted early today from outside his father's store in the six-hundred block of Diagon Alley, in broad daylight, by a man matching Greyback's description. Officials from the Department of Aurors and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were dispatched to the scene immediately, where they discovered the grisly body of Fred Weasley forty-five minutes later in an alleyway behind Borgin and Burkes on Knockturn Alley at two in the afternoon. Greyback was not apprehended, or even found at the scene–another black eye for the Ministry's much-criticized handling of the Greyback case, which saw the mass breakout of ten former Death Eaters from Azkaban just last week. After this atrocity, the public will undoubtedly step up their attempts to get Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley, to remedy the inability of the Ministry to capture of Fenrir Greyback and address problems within the Department of Aurors and Department of Magical Law Enforcement._

"_There are no plans at this time to change the structure of the two departments," Minister Weasley said. "We split the Department of Aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement following the second defeat of You-Know-Who twenty years ago, and so far, the transition has been seamless. I have complete confidence in Harry Potter and Hermione Granger [heads of the Department of Aurors and Department of Magical Law Enforcement, respectively to capture Greyback and stop this string of killings. In the meantime, there is no need to panic. We have finished training a staff of new Aurors–including Ron Weasley, who was instrumental in the defeat of You-Know-Who. He, among others, will be joining the Department immediately. Again, there is no reason to panic at this time." Whether or not Minister Weasley is correct remains to be seen–but he has a long way to go before he convinces the wizarding public and this reporter._

Albus stared at Rose–who appeared to be crying by this point.

"I can't believe it," she whispered. "Fred! He was only six."

Her cousin said nothing; he just reread the article for what seemed like the thousandth time. Fred, dead. He couldn't even imagine–it didn't seem real.

Oliver, by this point, had stopped thinking about his father for the first time in two weeks, and came over to give Rose a hug, as she continued to cry on his shoulder, even harder than before. Albus just sat there, watching them, unsure of what even to do.


	18. Year Two: Chapter Eight

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Sorry this chapter took forever to be posted. I've had an incredibly busy week and weekend--but this coming week should be easier so expect Chapter Nine in a couple days or so.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**C**__**hapter **__**Eight**_

"It's done," Gabrielle said, as she came into Teddy's room–without knocking. Teddy didn't even hear her come in; he was just sitting on the small settee at the foot of his bed, a big stack of Defense Against the Dark Arts essays at his feet–and he looked a bit startled when he saw her.

"What's done?"

"I broke up with Justin."

"Well, finally. Gabrielle–it's the end of April. You were going to break up with him in November."

"I know," she sighed. "I'm so bad with confrontation. Usually I just become mean and distant until he breaks up with me–but it didn't work with Justin. He couldn't take a hint. So I had to let him go."

"You're such a man," Teddy grinned at her.

Gabrielle shrugged, a bit of a sly grin on her face, and said, "It's over, at least–and I'm glad. The magic's been gone for a while, you know?"

"At least you had a chance for it to fizzle out," Teddy replied. "Victoire and I just–ended."

She sat down on the sofa next to him, looking pretty sympathetic, as she grabbed his hand gently. "I know, Teddy, and I'm so sorry about that. But do you think there's any hope of you two getting together next year? I mean, with her out of Hogwarts–"

"No," he replied. "I would love to but–no, no, she wouldn't do it. She's moved on. I haven't even talked to her in forever."

"She broke up with McLaggen last week," Gabrielle replied. "I heard it from Vane who heard it from Creevey who heard it from Coote, who saw Victoire dump him. He was seeing Darlene Robins on the side–and she found out. Made a big scene, right in the middle of the entrance hall, apparently." She looked at him suddenly serious. "Would you take her back?"

"I–I don't know," Teddy said. "She's the only girl I've ever been in love with, you know? I–I don't know. But she won't come back to me. I know she won't." Uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, he quickly hitched on a smile and then said, "So–are you still hung up on Neville?"

Gabrielle's face turned even more grave–and then she leaned in a little closer. Teddy felt the air whoosh out of his lungs–and he suddenly felt like he was unable to breathe, let alone get any words out.

"It's–it's not Neville, is it?" he whispered.

She shook her beautiful head, smiled a bit, then wiped her eyes a bit–she had started crying, just a bit, somewhere down the line. And Teddy watched, almost as if from outside his own body, as she put her hand on his leg, leaned in a bit closer. Teddy still hadn't moved–but hell, he wanted to–so he leaned in a little bit, as well. They were just an inch apart now, moving closer–they wouldn't be able to stop it now–

And the door swung open. Teddy would never know how he got to the other end of the sofa so fast, away from Gabrielle–but he did, and he tried to look as casual as possible when he peered up at the figure in the doorway.

And it was lucky he moved, he thought. Victoire stood there, dressed in her neat Gryffindor robes but, still, looking a little disheveled; her blonde hair was limp and listless, as if she had just woken up after a night of sleeping on it, and her eyes were puffy–like she had been crying.

Teddy said nothing; she walked over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and began to cry.

Gabrielle looked to Teddy–and, though he tried to mouth her something, she simply shook her head, just slightly, and pretended she hadn't heard him. She stood up and, being quite businesslike, walked out of the room, slamming the door loudly on her way out. Victoire scarcely noticed, as she pulled herself into the seat that Gabrielle had just vacated.

"It's McLaggen, Teddy," she sobbed. "With that whore, Darlene Robins. I caught them–I caught them together, in the Room of Requirement." She sobbed a bit harder. "And I can't even–I don't even–oh, Teddy, I realized that he was scum."

"I could have told you that," he muttered.

"I know!" she cried. "And that's the worst part. I was so keen on replacing you–I picked the best-looking guy I could find–the most popular, most showy guy I could find. And you know what I realized? I don't want the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I don't want anyone else but you." She hugged him tighter. "And, even if you don't want to tell anyone about us–even if you think we need to hide–I want to wait for you. As long as it takes."

"Victoire," he said. "I waited so long for you to say that, but–"

"No buts," she said. And she pulled him in, and kissed him. And, at that moment, Teddy forgot all about Gabrielle, all about being a professor–he was kissing Victoire, and that's all that mattered to him.

* * *

It had been a while since they found out about Fred's death; Albus and Rose had been excused from school for a weekend to attend the funeral. And Albus, even weeks later, wished he hadn't gone. It had been the worst experience of his life thus far; he just sat there, watching his grandma and Uncle George fall apart–crying, sobbing, wailing over the tiny closed coffin that housed Fred's little mangled body. So he tried to forget about it–and Rose had tried, too; they made a silent pact to never discuss it again. 

Brendan and Albus were downstairs in the library, studying; exams started in just two weeks, after all. The room was packed with people, but they found a quiet table near the Restricted Section, far away from the ceaseless hum of chatter and the piercing stare of Madam Pince. But neither of them were doing anything productive; they had both been burned out, and were just waiting for Oliver to get off of Quidditch practice so they could have dinner. But that was, still, an hour away–and it was already seven o'clock. So they just sat there, looking at the Marauder's Map–which Albus had nicked from James's room earlier in the week–and silently betting on things such as whether Cassiopeia Malfoy or Lauren Vance would leave the girls' bathroom first, or whether Filch or Peeves would get to the trophy room first.

"I'm bored," Brendan announced. "Want to go to play a game of catch?"

"I suppose you mean on broomsticks?"

"Well–"

"No," Albus said. "I'm sorry. I should really be studying, anyway. I'm still not completely confident on Switching Spells yet."

Brendan rolled his eyes, but stood up anyway. "I'm going for a walk, then."

"We're not supposed to leave the castle, anyway," Albus said. "Professor Weasley's in London, and with Greyback on the loose–"

"I'll be fine with a walk, I think. Maybe I'll catch Oliver–we can do something fun."

"You know," Albus replied, "I don't know why you and Oliver don't understand."

"It's an irrational fear!" Brendan gasped. "You're so afraid of everything Albus; it's hard to believe you're Harry Potter's son."

Albus winced–looked as if he had been slapped across the face, but said nothing. He just stared in Brendan's eyes–and Brendan seemed to realize he had gone too far. But neither of them were going to say anything further; Brendan simply grabbed his books, sent one more glare towards his friend, and then skulked out of the library.

Scorpius seemed to appear over Albus's shoulder again, from behind the bookcase–he heard the same whispered taunts as before.

"Maybe you should just go crawl under a rock," Scorpius whispered. "Or maybe just join Hufflepuff; maybe that's a better place for you. I think Finnigan was right. How the hell are you Harry Potter's son? He must be so ashamed to have such a failure–"

Albus wheeled around, sticking his wand through the bookcase. "If you don't shut the fuck up, Malfoy, I'm going to hex your brains out."

Scorpius said nothing; he disappeared back into the bookcase. But Albus still couldn't be happy with himself–what if what Scorpius said was true? He had heard it too much. Oliver, Brendan, Scorpius–no, it couldn't be true. No. No.

He sat back down, picked up his quill, and began to write–but he didn't even know what he was writing. Words were just flowing, as if automatically, onto the parchment. He couldn't think about goblin rebellions at a time like this; all he kept hearing was Scorpius's whispering insults, and Brendan's scoffs–and he didn't want to do any more homework.

He stuffed his History of Magic book into his book bag, followed by his quills and his ink–and then the Marauder's Map.

But he didn't feel like going back to his room–or doing any more studying. So he just started walking, aimlessly, through the castle–until he decided to head down to the Quidditch pitch, to see if Oliver had finished his practice yet.

He wasn't done. But the castle was too far--and they'd be done soon, so Albus just sat in the stands–the only person there–and stared.

Until, of course, he became suddenly aware of the fact that the entire Quidditch team was watching him sit there.

Figuring he may as well pretend like he was doing something, he quickly opened his book bag, and pulled out his books--and, inadvertently, the Marauder's Map, which caught a gust of wind. He grabbed at it, a bit in vain; it floated down a row anyway. He quickly darted forward, picked it up, stuck out his wand, ready to wipe it clean–until he noticed two names right above the tip of his wand, both moving quickly towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest–"Brendan Finnigan" and "Fenrir Greyback."


	19. Year Two: Chapter Nine

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** This chapter's a bit short--not the shortest ever--but it's pretty crucial to the series. Enjoy!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Nine**_

"Are you all right?" Teddy asked, as he slowly entered into Gabrielle's room.

"I–I don't know," she said. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm all right."

"You're lying," he replied. "I know you are, Gabrielle–and I don't know what to say."

"You're back with Victoire now, aren't you?"

Teddy didn't quite know what to say; he looked down, unwilling to meet her eyes–but then he slowly nodded. "I told you. She's the only girl I've ever loved–and she wants me back, Gabrielle. She wants me back–so how am I supposed to turn her away?"

Gabrielle pursed her lips a bit, also looked away, and said, "Teddy, it's fine. I think we were both just feeling especially vulnerable. I had broken up with Justin, and you were still upset over Victoire–and, yeah, it's fine." She forced a smile onto her face. "It's all right, Teddy. We're just friends who almost made a big mistake–and it's probably better that we didn't do anything." With an even wider grin, she added, "I'm too old for you anyway."

"I'm twenty," he said, "and you're twenty-nine. That's not too far."

"It's far enough," she replied. "We're friends, Teddy–and that's all I want, and that's all you want. So could we just pretend it didn't happen?"

Teddy was silent for a moment–then nodded a bit, and Gabrielle looked relieved.

"Good," she said. "Now, I have a lot of papers to grade, so if you wouldn't mind–"

"All right," he said. "I'll see you later, then."

He had just left when Neville came running into the room. "Teddy's back with Victoire!" he panted. "I just saw them–and he just told me, and–"

"It's fine," Gabrielle said. "I already know that. I told him that we almost made a big mistake, and it's better we just remain friends. I don't want a relationship."

"That's a lie," Neville gasped. "That's a lie–you've liked him all year."

"Would you shut up?" she rasped. "It's water under the bridge now, Neville–and I think it's best we all forget about it."

* * *

Albus stood there in horror, staring at the map, not knowing what to do. He should go to Charlie, or even Teddy, or perhaps send an urgent owl to his dad at the Ministry.

But anyone could do that, said a tiny voice in the back of his head–a voice that sounded oddly like Scorpius Malfoy. No–he had to be a Gryffindor for once. He had to be brave. A Gryffindor. A son his dad would be proud of. This was his chance. And he didn't have the time; it was a fifteen minute walk back to the castle, while the pitch was right at the edge of the forest. He could make it there faster–he really could.

So he threw his book bag down, leaving it in the Quidditch pitch–and then broke out into a run. And he didn't know what he was going to do–but he had to get there fast, as quick as he could. So he ran, the map in front of him, his wand held in front of him like a dagger, ready to attack.

It was darker outside than he thought, once he escaped the lights of the Quidditch pitch; the sun had just set, and the dusky sky was already beginning to show stars. The moon was just rising over the mountains.

The dots marked "Fenrir Greyback" and "Brendan Finnigan" stopped–stopped in the clearing where Albus had met another werewolf, Thomas Carrow, last year. But that time, he had sent an owl straight to his dad–and he hadn't done anything. But no. Not any longer. This was Albus's moment–after all, when his dad was twelve, he had already defeated Voldemort three times. And what had Albus done? He couldn't even ride a broomstick, or break a rule, or procrastinate on his homework–let alone do something that even constituted a real adventure.

"Hey–hey Albus!"

Albus broke his concentration for just a minute, spun around, and saw Oliver standing there, in his scarlet Quidditch robes, holding his Silver Ghost.

"Where the hell are you going?" he gasped, as he trudged over. "I saw you take off–I thought you would wait for me." He stopped. "You're going into the forest?"

It didn't take long to explain what had happened–and it sure as hell didn't take long for Oliver's face to suddenly fill with panic; the map took care of that.

"We have to go back," he said. "Tell Professor Weasley, or Professor Lupin, or something–"

"No!" Albus snapped. "It'll take forever. He could be dead by the time they get him."

"I'm going back," he replied. "Albus, we can't–we should–" He stopped talking, looked nervously at Albus, then pulled out his wand. "All right," he said softly. "Let's go."

Albus was suddenly thankful for his best friend–and they exchanged knowing smiles, and then they began to run faster, faster–and they disappeared into the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, where the path became a bit overgrown, a bit harder to run through. But they tried anyway, trying to be as quiet as they could, as the world around them grew darker and darker.

"Lumos," Albus whispered–and his wand lit up the sky. They walked a little further into the forest, knowing the clearing should be up there–coming up anywhere.

He looked at the map again. Almost there.

The weird part, though, is that Albus wasn't afraid. He expected he would be–after all, he couldn't even mount a broom without his heart coming into his throat. But walking through the forest with Oliver, going to rescue Brendan from his imminent doom–there was something oddly comfortable, oddly right about it. And he couldn't help but smile.

I am a Gryffindor, he thought, swelling with pride.

And then he heard a howl–and he and Oliver, instinctively and in unison, looked up at the sky.

A full moon. Tonight was a full moon.

"Holy hell," Oliver whispered. "Do you think–"

Brendan came sprinting out onto the path, about a fifty yards ahead of them; they could barely make him out in the dark, but he seemed to know it was them. "Get out of the way!" he shrieked. They could already see that his robes were torn, bloody–but he seemed to be okay.

And then, at his heels, was a giant brown wolf, snarling, foaming at the mouth.

"It's him," Oliver whimpered. "What are we supposed to do, Albus?"

Albus held his wand out a bit further–as if that would do anything–and he shouted, "Stupefy." But that seemed to do nothing; the curse missed both of them, and they kept running towards them.

"Together, now," Albus yelled.

"Stupefy!" he and Oliver yelled–and the beams of light from their curses joined, and slammed into the nearest figure–into Brendan, who toppled to the ground.

And then, the werewolf was on top of him, biting him firmly in the leg–and the transformation happened right there, as the two of them watched–as their other best friend, Brendan, instantly transformed into a snarling grey wolf, still with his Gryffindor scarf and book bag wrapped around his hairy neck.

Brendan looked at Greyback for a second, and Albus could swear they were communicating, telling each other something–and then they turned.

Oliver and Albus didn't wait for anything–definitely not each other. They started to run–but the wolves were faster.

And that's when Oliver was suddenly aware he was still holding an international standard racing broom.

He turned it over, mounted it, and Albus jumped on–his fear of flying was nothing compared to his fear of being mangled to death by a werewolf. And they took off–they flew straight up into the air, as if blasted by a cannon–and then they hovered for a bit, high in the sky, where the wolves looked only like dots. But, even from up there, Albus could still make them out–without any more prey, they turned on each other. He could see the wolves wrestling, fighting, killing each other. And he closed his eyes. He couldn't bring himself to look.


	20. Year Two: Chapter Ten

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2018 to June 2019  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** So this ends Year Two, and the first chapter of Year Three--which has already been written--will be posted soon. But yeah, let me know what you thought of the year!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Two  
**_

_**Chapter**__** Ten**_

They had found Brendan the next morning, sprawled out on the lawn near the Forbidden Forest, covered in the morning dew–and they brought him to the hospital wing, where they told Madam Pomfrey that he had fallen down the stairs to the common room. She didn't ask questions; she healed him up pretty well–as well as she could. She seemed a little suspicious, though–but Brendan had sworn them both to secrecy. If anyone found out he had been infected, he would have to register with the Ministry–and that meant he would be tracked, he would be discriminated against, and perhaps the worst, he would be expelled, as the Ministry decided having werewolves on the premises posed far too much of a risk. So they stayed silent–except for telling Rose and Katie, of course, because Brendan thought they should know, too.

The Hogwarts Express left two weeks afterwards–Brendan had not transformed since the night he was bitten–and no one quite knew what he was going to do when the next full moon came. Even Brendan didn't know, or so Albus thought. But he refused to talk about it–with any of them. He wouldn't say anything more, tell them anything, let them help him. No. He refused.

As a result, the ride back home was an awkward one–until Brendan fell asleep, probably the first time he had slept since that night. He looked awful–Albus knew that now. His skin had become a bit grey, a bit lumpy, and he had bags under his eyes. He looked sick, tired–and he was both of those things. But at least he was sleeping now.

But, though everyone thought it was going to be less awkward once he fell asleep, they were sorely mistaken. They just sat there, gaping at each other, not knowing what they could possibly even say. Words escaped them–it was silence, silence for the entire trip.

* * *

Teddy and Victoire had taken a private compartment in the back of the train. She had changed out of her Gryffindor robes–for the last time, and was pleased to tell Teddy as much. She put on a pair of plain black ones–like any adult wizard would wear–and then came back into the compartment, where she leaned in, kissed him softly on the mouth, and said, "You're not my teacher anymore–so can I call you Teddy again?" 

"You could call me anything you want," he replied. "I can't believe this–I never thought–" He just smiled, as she kissed him again. "I love you, Victoire."

"I love you, too, Teddy," she said.

There was a bit of a pause, as both studied each other's eyes, content to spend the entire train ride just sucking in the air around each other–but Teddy broke the silence. "Will you marry me?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yes–yes, of course I will, Teddy." She suddenly looked out the window–and then back at Teddy, and said, "But not right away."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't tell you this," she said, "but I'm going to France for a year."

"Oh. I see."

"Don't say that," she said. "I've been offered a year-long internship with the French Ministry of Magic–and I want to take it. Then after, I'll come back home and work for our Ministry–but a year in Paris! It would–"

"You've always wanted something like that," he said slowly. "I know you have."

She smiled faintly. "I have."

"Then you're going to do it," he said. "And there's going to be no more said about that."

She hugged him tightly, kissing his neck a bit, and then said, "I can't believe I wanted to give you up."

"I can't believe I let you," he replied. "A year, Victoire. And then we'll get married."

"And then we'll get married," she repeated. She stood up. "I'm going to get some chocolate frogs—want anything from the cart?"

"I'm fine," Teddy said. "I might take a nap."

She opened the compartment door, nearly tripping on Albus, who had his hand raised, his mouth slightly open, about to knock.

Without a word, she moved to the side, let him inch into the compartment, and then went loudly down the corridor.

"You look happy," Albus said quietly.

"You don't," Teddy replied. "What's wrong? Sit down, sit."

"I—I did something," he said. "I caused something."

"Well—what is it?"

"I can't say. I promised a friend that I wouldn't, and after last year—well, no. Keeping trust is the most important thing to me in the world."

"All right," he said slowly. "So what can you tell me?"

"I was trying to help him," Albus said. "I was trying to save him—and I caused an accident—but I was trying to help him the whole time. I swear I was." He shook his head. "I feel so damn guilty, you know?"

"Don't. Don't feel guilty," Teddy replied. "You tried, didn't you? That makes you pretty damn brave in my book. Forget about how it ended. Being brave isn't about being successful; it's about trying your best in the face of adversity, even if you fail." As Albus opened his mouth to say something, Teddy quickly continued. "Your dad would say the same thing. He failed more than once, and people died. Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black—do you remember those names from History of Magic? Lured into danger by your dad—even if he didn't mean for anyone to get hurt. And they died. And he felt terrible—I know he did. But he kept fighting, Albus, because that's what heroes do. They don't give up. They don't let themselves get derailed by their mistakes. They forge ahead."

Albus continued to look at the ground—his cheeks were a bit streaked with a few wayward tears now, so he kept his head firmly away from Teddy's. But, finally, he looked up. "I still feel guilty. I don't know why. I feel like I cause things, like I'm always screwing up things."

"Don't think that," Teddy said. "You're a Gryffindor, aren't you? Where dwell the brave at heart. And you, Albus, come from a long line of brave wizards—and I'll be damned if you're not one of them."

* * *

Platform Nine and Three Quarters was abuzz with action–not just with parents, though Albus could see Harry, Ginny, and Lily sitting on the platform near Hermione and Ron, looking through the windows of the slowing train for any sign of James or Albus–but he noticed a bunch of reporters. 

"Of course," Rose said. "Someone in Hogsmeade spotted Greyback–and he was covered with blood. And he disappeared again, but they reckon he attacked something in the forest."

Brendan sunk in his seat.

"And now," she said, "they don't know what to do. They didn't catch him yet, but they're all still looking up in Hogsmeade for any sign of him."

"I wonder why my dad is here," Albus said slowly. "And you're Mum. If anyone's in Hogsmeade, they should be."

Rose simply shrugged.

Harry saw the train stop, and then he looked back down towards his newspaper, which he gripped as tightly as he could–so tightly that he thought he'd rip the corners.

**Shakeup at the Ministry**

_by Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent_

_LONDON–Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley, has announced a new shakeup at the Department of Aurors and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. While each department will stay fundamentally the same and retain much of their same staff, the biggest news, however, is that the heads of the two departments, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, are being removed from their posts; Harry Potter will become head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, while Hermione Granger will become head of the Department of Magical Transportation, both widely considered to be lower-profile appointments. Minister Weasley stated at his press conference, "There's nothing personal; I respect the work Harry and Hermione have done in the past–but Greyback has been on the loose for two years now, and we need fresh faces if we want to capture him before there's another tragedy on our hands."_

_In a shockingly unexpected twist, Minister Weasley has named Theodore Nott, son of a convicted Death Eater, to head the Department of Aurors, and Cormac McLaggen to head the Department of Magical Law Enforcement–replacing the two highly-respected wizards responsible for the defeat of You-Know-Who, Granger and Potter. Nott, who has worked as an Auror for twelve years, promises results in the search for Fenrir Greyback, and also promises to work closely with McLaggen–as well as Potter and Granger–to yield better results. McLaggen, who joined the Ministry just four years ago after a lackluster Quidditch career with the Chudley Cannons reserve team, was a surprise choice for the position, but he colorfully echoes Nott's promise with the simple phrase, "Let's go hunting."_

_Spokeswizards from Granger's office were unavailable for comment–but it is rumored that she may leave the Ministry altogether, and focus her time on charity organizations, such as the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, which she founded two decades ago, as well as possibly forming a private law practice, after her years of experience as a lawyer for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Eyewitnesses claim that she is "distraught" over the loss of her position, and Yours Truly will keep the public posted on the tragic unraveling of Hermione Granger's fragile sanity._

_Harry Potter's office didn't offer comments, either, but it is widely expected that Harry Potter will stay with the Ministry only so he may continue to fight against Minister Weasley's administration, and possibly put himself in a better position to become Minister of Magic himself when Minister Weasley's first term expires in two years._

Harry put down the newspaper, shook the images out of his head, then tossed the paper into the waste bin next to him. He exchanged a knowing look with Hermione–but then all was forgotten; they both couldn't help but smile as they saw their kids all running towards them.


	21. Year Three: Chapter One

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** The start of the third year! Let me know what you think.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter One**_

It was funny–Albus Potter always enjoyed summers in the past, but he was uncharacteristically bored this year. Perhaps it was the loneliness. He had grown so accustomed to Gryffindor tower, constantly surrounded by his friends, that life in Grimmauld Place seemed a bit dull by comparison. It didn't help, of course, that his father, the famed Auror Harry Potter had been recently moved to head the Department of International Magical Cooperation–"Where the Ministry sends their political opponents to shut them up," Ginny Potter had confided Albus on one occasion–and was spending the summer visiting other Ministries of Magic around Europe.

Ginny, too, had been hard at work for the _Daily Prophet_, being dispatched to Dublin for the British Isles Quidditch Cup last week, and she took Albus's brother, James, with her–after all, he is the biggest Quidditch fan Albus has ever met. Ginny, of course, didn't want their sister, Lily, staying home with only Albus for two weeks–so she was sent off to the Burrow to spend time with her grandparents, as much as she protested that, in three weeks time, she would be at Hogwarts, staying by herself. Albus chose to stay at home, thinking that, perhaps, he would be able to have a bit of alone time, or at least find something fun to do in the city.

But that was not the case. His cousins, Rose and Hugo, had gone to Australia with their Muggle grandparents, who inexplicably held a fondness for the faraway country, and Teddy Lupin had gone with Victoire to France to visit the Delacours. Even his friend, Oliver, who was expected to visit hadn't come, as his father had snagged him a last minute ticket to the British Isles Quidditch Cup. But as bored as Albus was, he kept busy; he helped Kreacher kill the doxies growing in the attic, and he was midway through a tall stack of textbooks that he had already read in preparation of the school year–not to mention, he knew Rose and Teddy would be getting back in town any day now.

Even so, he was not expecting any visitors. But a visitor is what he got.

Brendan Finnigan–looking more disheveled and tired than he had ever seen him before–knocked on Albus's window, hovering outside the house on his broomstick.

"Are you mad?" Albus greeted. "There are Muggles living all around us."

Brendan threw himself through the open window, grabbed his broom, and hoped no one had seen anything–it didn't look like it. It was too hot for people to gather out on Grimmauld Place.

"What are you doing here, Bren?" Albus asked.

"I–I lost track of time," he said. "I told my parents I was coming here last week, and I told them I would just stay with you until the start of term–and I didn't realize it was still a whole week away."

"Why'd you tell you parents you were staying here?"

Brendan looked a bit sheepish, down at the floor–and Albus realized.

"Have you been transforming?" he whispered.

Brendan only nodded a bit, still looking down at the floor. "Every full moon." He had been bitten by the infamous fugitive, Fenrir Greyback–a dangerous werewolf–at the end of last term.

Albus pulled him down onto the bed, looked around a bit–even though he knew no one was in the house to hear them. "Are you–are you sure?"

"Pretty damn sure," Brendan snapped.

"I–I didn't mean that," he replied. "That came out wrong–what are you going to do during the school year? You can't tell Professor Weasley; the Ministry put a ban on werewolves attending Hogwarts."

"I know," he replied. "I was thinking we could Professor Lupin."

"Teddy?"

"Yeah," Brendan said. "He said his dad was a werewolf, remember? And his dad went to Hogwarts–so he must know how they kept him safe, right?"

"My dad knows, too," Albus replied. "I heard them talking about it once."

"You can't tell your dad," Brendan said. "He works for the Ministry."

Albus grinned. "He's not in the Ministry's best favor right now, as I'm sure you heard."

"Everyone heard. My dad and mum were livid–they think Minister Weasley is undoing all the work your dad did to fix the Ministry."

"My dad thinks so too," Albus said, "but he hasn't said anything; he doesn't like to talk about unpleasant things with us. He hasn't even told us about how he defeated You-Know-Who; all we know we've read in all those Rita Skeeter biographies–and you can't separate fact from fiction with her."

"Has he mentioned anything about Greyback?"

"Not a word. But I reckon he knows what Greyback's after."

"What's he after?"

"How the hell should I know? I told you; Dad doesn't tell me anything." He narrowed his eyes a bit, suddenly remembering a question he forgot to ask. "Where have you been transforming?"

"There's a tiny little island," he said, "in the Irish Sea. My grandpa owned the whole island–just big enough for a little house, you see–but it's been shuttered for years, all boarded up and all. I've–I've been telling my parents that I've gone to see you and Oliver, and then I flew there a few nights before the full moon, and–" He paused, becoming a bit too emotional to continue. He dabbed his eyes, broke his stare with Albus, and became suddenly interested in the floorboards. "I just don't know what I'm going to do at Hogwarts. I can't leave for a whole week every month. Everyone would be suspicious. And they can't find out, Albus–not even my parents know. And I'll be expelled for sure."

"And that's why you want to tell Teddy."

Brendan gave a sad little nod. "I just think that's–"

The door swung open, and Ron and Rose Weasley stood there.

"I heard you were staying home alone, Albus," Ron said, "so I wanted to come by and make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, Uncle Ron," Albus replied. "This is Brendan Finnigan."

"Brendan!" Rose gasped, looking quite thrilled. "Albus didn't tell me you'd be here."

"It was a last-minute thing," Brendan explained quietly.

* * *

"No, Teddy–you have to go back," Victoire said, giving him one more swift kiss. "You have to be at Hogwarts soon, you know? You can't stay here forever. You told Kingsley that you'd be at his place for dinner tonight." 

"I'd rather stay here with you," he said slowly, looking around the two-bedroom flat that Victoire had rented in Paris. "I–I can't believe you're not going to be at Hogwarts this year."

"I graduated," she answered. "You weren't expecting me there." She sighed when he saw his pouty face. "Teddy, we talked about this already. We'll talk every night, you know? You just poke your head into my fireplace, and we'll talk. Every night."

"Promise?"

"Of course. But now, you have to go."

"What if," he said, with a bit of a grin, "we talk about the wedding?"

She flushed red, a bit smile appearing on her face. He knew what he was doing–that she was sure of. She had spent the whole summer, after all, talking about nothing but the wedding. "Five minutes."

Teddy had heard enough about the wedding–but he didn't mind kissing her neck as he pretended to listen to another long-winded story about whether the centerpieces should be made from flitterblooms or roses. She didn't really expect him to listen, nor did he intend to. He would just nod along, add an occasional, "Yes, Dear," to conversation, and continuing nibbling her ear while she planned the wedding. It was a system that seemed to work for them.

The door swung open, and a handsome Frenchman stood there, a big grin on his face.

"Victoire, c'est un plaisir de vous revoir. Il a été trop long."

Teddy didn't understand French–but he sure as hell didn't think that sounded very good.

"Louis!" she exclaimed, as he kissed her on both cheeks. "Teddy–this is my roommate, Louis."

Teddy frowned–glared, even–at this newcomer. "I thought you said this was Chantal's apartment."

"Eet eez," Louis interjected–and Teddy was suddenly disgusted by the French accent that made Victoire's eyelashes inadvertently flutter. "Chantal eez my sister."

"That's right," Victoire replied. "Chantal is on a dragon dig in Africa for the year, and she's subletting me the apartment for the year. I told you that, sweetie."

"You didn't tell me Louis was also subletting."

"He's not," she replied. "He just–he always lives with Chantal. And he's not going to Africa, so–"

"All right," Teddy answered huffily. "Now I see why you were so keen on getting me out of here, that's all."

"Teddy!" she gasped. "You know that isn't true."

"Fine, fine," he replied coldly. "I just think you should've told me. I might not have been so willing to let you come to Paris if I knew–"

"Excuse me," she interrupted. "You wouldn't have _let_ me come?"

He winced at the repetition of his words. "All right, that wasn't the best way to put it." He forced a grin onto his face, and said, "You know I trust you, right? So nine o'clock at your fireplace?"

She gave a bit of a grin, too–though it was just as awkward as his–and agreed, "Nine o'clock."

* * *

Brendan and Albus spent the rest of the week with Rose, who was thrilled to be back in the wizarding world, having enough of the Grangers to last her quite a while. They spent most of their time hanging around Grimmauld Place, playing Exploding Snap and gobstones. 

Ginny Potter wasn't due back at Grimmauld Place for another two days–but she and James came into the house, late one night, when Brendan and Albus were sleeping.

"Albus!" she hollered. "Albus!"

Albus woke up with a start, hearing his mother's voice–and suddenly realized that something must be wrong. Brendan was still asleep, and he figured he'd leave him like that–so he grabbed his dressing gown, tied it around himself, and came downstairs.

Ginny and James stood in the foyer, both whispering to each other, inaudibly and quickly.

"Is your dad home yet?" Ginny called when she saw Albus appear at the top of the stairs.

"He's not supposed to be back for another week," Albus replied. "Why–what are you doing home? It's two in the morning."

"He's not back yet?" Ginny gasped. "Damn it–I thought he would."

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

"Watch your mouth, Albus," his mother snapped sternly. Her face suddenly lost all frustration, and instead looked quite sad–to Albus's surprise and horror.

"What's wrong, Mum?"

"It's George," she said slowly. "Your Uncle George. He's–not well."

"Not well?"

"They rushed him to St. Mungo's," she continued. "He's–he's not going to make it."

And that was all anyone needed to say; the foyer immediately fell silent, so silent that you could almost hear Kreacher snoring, three rooms away. George–dying? Albus was shocked–but not surprised. His poor uncle–too many hardships for one to handle. He had always known his uncle as a slightly serious but good-natured man–but he hears that, before the death of his twin, he used to be a lot more whimsical, happy-go-lucky, and comical. But the death of Fred Weasley had hit him hard–and he was never the same after that. And Albus remembered what had happened at the funeral of George's son–also named Fred–at the end of last year. George had fallen apart. Now that he thought of it, Albus scarcely wondered how George had lasted this long anyway.

"What happened?" Albus finally said slowly.

"He drank a bottle of bubotuber pus," she whispered. "He–he–tried to–" She started to sob; she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence–but Albus and James both knew how it ended. And it was too terrible to even think about–but it made sense, as morbid and terrible as Albus thought that sounded.

* * *

The first time Teddy had seen any of the Potters during the entire summer was at George's funeral–and admittedly, that wasn't the best place to swap stories about their vacations. Teddy had never seen a more subdued group of people than those paying their respects to George. No one said anything; no one even knew what they could say. He scanned the crowd–a sizeable crowd, at that–and looked at George's poor widow, Romilda Vane–and, rather pampered as she may be by years of her husband's riches, he couldn't help but feel sorry for her; her only son and her husband, dead within months of each other. It was tragic. But Teddy felt even worse for Molly Weasley–who seemed to be making the only noise in the entire cemetery, sobbing uncontrollably onto Arthur's shoulder. She hadn't stopped in an hour–and, with each passing second, Teddy felt worse and worse for her. Harry had told him, once, about her boggart–and nothing more needed to be said. Two sons and a grandson now, dead. 

Almost everyone returned to the Burrow shortly after the funeral, for a more intimate setting to visit, to share condolences–as with any funeral. But it was still so quiet in the house that Teddy couldn't stand it. He went outside to the garden–where he was surprised to see Charlie and Romilda, sitting in the potting soil next to Mrs. Weasley's vegetable garden. Romilda, for the first time that Teddy had known her, didn't seem the least bit concerned with the fact that she was getting dirt all over the back of her black silk dress robes.

"It's just–so unexpected," she was saying. "Just–I never would have expected George to do such a thing."

"None of us could have," Charlie replied, a bit somberly. "If you had told me, before Fred's death, that–"

"He was different before Fred's death," Romilda said, "and we all knew that." She shook her head. "A widow, at thirty-six. Can you believe that?"

"I–I'm sorry." He paused for a second. "You'll be all right, won't you? Financially, I mean."

"More than all right," she answered. "George left me I-can't-tell-you-how-much gold. Five branches of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes? I'll be fine. Still wealthier than the rest of you other Weasleys combined. No, it's not money I'm concerned with."

"Because," Charlie said, through gritted teeth, as if he would rather say anything else, "if you ever needed anything, I'd help you out. Any of us would."

Romilda gave a thin smile, then said, "That's sweet of you–especially since I know you don't like me very much."

Charlie looked a bit taken aback. "I–I–"

"It's fine," she replied. "You think I'm spoiled, and that I only married George for his money–and that he only married me because I was a Gladrags model when we met."

"I didn't say any of that."

"I know you didn't," she replied. "But it's written all over your face. And I know you've said it before–to Bill, at my wedding. I heard you. Well. I may be beautiful, but I'm not stupid, you know." She stiffened a bit, brushed a bit of dirt off of her knee, and said, "You don't like me, though, can we agree on that?"

"Well, I–well, no. That's neither here nor there," Charlie replied. "My brother's dead. I may have had my share of–grievances–against you, but can't we just put everything behind us?"

Romilda was quiet for a minute. "You're right," she said finally. "You're right; it's behind us." She forced a bit of a smile onto her face. "And thank you for the offer, anyway."

"Any time," he said. "I know George would have wanted to make sure you were–provided for. He made me promise him, long ago, that I would make sure you were okay." He rolled his eyes a bit. "God only knows why he couldn't have chosen Ron, Percy, or Bill." Romilda pretended not to hear that last part.

"I am okay," she replied. "And, even so, I wouldn't expect anything from you."

"No?"

"Because," she replied, "as much as you dislike me–well, I'm not too fond of you, either." She grabbed onto the picket fence, pulled herself up, and quickly brushed off her dress robes. "And I shall see you next term."

"Pardon?"

"George was a Governor of Hogwarts," she said, with a bit of a sly smile on her face. Leaning down so low that she was just inches away from Charlie's nose, she whispered, "So, now, that means I am."


	22. Year Three: Chapter Two

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Two  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter; my computer charger died and I was without a laptop for about four days, and I had a whole week of midterms... and then was being weird. It generally won't be nearly that long. But, like always, let me know what you think.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**Chapter Two**_

"Hey, you," Teddy greeted, as he walked down the spiral staircase to the faculty common room.

Gabrielle was deep in concentration, reading some sort of book. "Hello," she answered, without looking up.

Teddy sat down across from her, put his feet up next to her on the arm of her chair–which she swatted away, still not taking her eyes off the book.

"It's–it's been a while," he said slowly.

"Has it?"

"I haven't seen you all summer–and then you make yourself scarce on the train. It's been a week since the start of the term, and you haven't even looked at me." He sighed a bit. "Gabrielle, can't we talk?"

He didn't think she'd look up–but she did with such force that it scared him. She slammed her book shut, chucked it onto the floor next to her, and leaned forward, not blinking at all. "You want to talk? Let's talk. Isn't it nice that Lily Potter got into Gryffindor? She was so relieved. Hugo Weasley comes to Hogwarts next year; I just wonder where he'll wind up." She gave a thin, knowing grin when she saw Teddy's face. "Oh, I'm sorry. You wanted to talk–but did you have a topic in mind?"

"You know very well what topic I had in mind."

"I told you. I'm not going to discuss that. Maybe you're just wasting your time."

"I have to know!" he exclaimed, leaning forward as well, so that their noses were almost touching–but neither of them flinched or even moved. "I have to know, Gabrielle."

She broke the stare, leaned back a bit, then said, in a low voice, "All right. You deserve to know." She sighed loudly, looked at the doorway, and then back at the staircase to the bedrooms, as if to make sure no one was around. She leaned back even further in her chair, so that she was almost lying down on the seat. "I did–I had feelings for you at one point last year."

With a grin, Teddy interjected, "Who could blame you?"

"And then," she growled, "I remembered what a huge prick you are."

"That's not fair!"

"It's pretty accurate," she said. "I think I must've been Imperiused to forget that you're just a twenty-year-old kid."

"Twenty-one."

"And I'm thirty!" she gasped, scrambling up from her reclined position with such haste that Teddy thought she was going to storm out of the room right then and there. She didn't; she just stood above him, looming, her beautiful face a bright shade of red. "Nine years. No, I think I realized last year–and if I didn't last year, I sure as hell did now–that you're just a snot-nosed kid, and I'm better off with someone my own age."

Teddy opened his mouth to say something–but didn't have the chance to; Gabrielle, with a swish of her robes, disappeared up the staircase, running headlong into Neville Longbottom, as he came down the stairs with a big stack of papers to grade. The papers, of course, went over the railing but, save for a quick apologetic look, Gabrielle continued to her room uninterrupted.

"Had a bit of a fight?" Neville asked, as Teddy came over to help him pick up papers.

"She's–she's impossible sometimes. I think that veela anger really shown today."

"She's just frustrated," Neville replied. He lowered his voice. "She didn't think you and Victoire would get back together. That's why she–made a move." He blushed scarlet by this point, and quickly went back to picking up his essays.

"She said that was a mistake."

"What was she supposed to say?" He arranged the papers into a neat stack, then stood up. "You're with Victoire. And Gabrielle–is Gabrielle." With a bit of an airy laugh, he added, "Trust me. She'll find someone. Quarter-veela witches don't stay single long."

Teddy grunted in response. "I just think–never mind. I'm with Victoire. I've never been happier."

"Then that's good."

Luna Lovegood came walking down the stairs, a bit preoccupied with something, looking just as eccentric as ever–with her wand tucked behind her ear and her hair done up with what could only be a long flitterbloom vine. Neville turned even more red and suddenly became very interested in the carvings on the mantelpiece.

Teddy surveyed the Divination professor for a moment, as she approached them. She was a bit eccentric–a barrel of crazy, even–but she did have some sort of offbeat beauty to her. He could understand Neville's crush.

"Luna!"

"Oh–Teddy and Neville," she said slowly, as if she'd just seen them. "I was just on the way to my N.E.W.T. class." She looked down at her wristwatch, an odd, bulky contraption with a band that looked as if it was made of interlocking dragon claws, and said, "Well, I have a few minutes, I suppose."

Neville stared out of her out of the corner of his eye, and trying to be as blasé as possible, said, "So, Luna–how's Raymond?"

"Rolf?"

"Oh," he said, with a bit of a purposeful grin and a hooty, self-satisfied laugh. "Whatever his name is."

"Smooth," muttered Teddy.

"He's fine," she said. "On expedition in Sweden. It seems someone found Snorkack footprints in the snow, and Rolf reckons he has them cornered now." She shook her head sadly, and there was a loud jingling sound, as if she was wearing a necklace of spare change around her neck–which, Teddy suddenly noticed, seemed to be true. "I only wish I could go–but I'm here."

"Maybe over the summer," Neville said, "We could both go."

Luna looked pleasantly surprised. "Neville, you never told me you were interested in tracking the Snorkack!"

He looked a bit helpless at Teddy but, with a sudden boost of confidence said, "Well–I was reading about them. And I would love to find them–with you."

"Wonderful," she said. "I have to get to Divination–but we'll have to plant his later!"

And she skipped out of the room, clanging loudly, her purse swaying roughly from side to side.

* * *

"You transform in three days!" Albus hissed to Brendan, as Teddy passed back the first Defense Against the Dark Arts essays of the term. "You have to tell him now. After class." They both stopped talking, turned to grin innocently at Teddy–who gave them an odd look, as he put an essay down on Albus's desk.

"Nice work, Potter," he said gruffly, and he skulked off to Oliver–who didn't quite get the same response.

Albus, a proud grin on his face, slipped his A paper into his book bag, then turned back to Brendan, his response becoming a bit grave again. "After class. I'll go with you if you want."

"It's fine."

The bell rang, and because it was now lunchtime, the class scurried out of the room as quickly as they could–but Albus and Oliver took a bit longer than necessary to pack up, trying to hear strands of the conversation between Brendan and Teddy in the front of the room, but they couldn't hear anything; they saw Brendan's lips moving, nearly inaudibly. They could see Teddy's reaction–shock, mostly–as Brendan continued to talk.

"Potter! Wood!" Teddy suddenly shouted, standing up. "Get out!" He looked back to Brendan, who had gone a bit pale, and shook his head slightly. Teddy gave a thin smile, and opened the door behind his said, "All right, then–all three of you into my office."

He ushered them inside, bolted the door, and whispered an incantation–then, looking suddenly serious, he sat down behind his desk.

"Greyback," he whispered. His face contorted a bit, then suddenly grew more resolute. "He bit my dad, you know." He shuffled papers, a bit haphazardly, and there was a long spell of silence, before Teddy finally spoke again. "The full moon is on Saturday."

"I know," Brendan said slowly, his voice cracking a bit. "And–I don't know what to do."

"All right," he said. "Does anyone else know?"

"Katie and Rose."

"And that's it?"

Brendan, tears suddenly filling his eyes. He took a deep breath, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and said, "That's it."

"All right. Don't tell anyone else. If Professor Weasley gets wind of this, the Ministry will expel you. You know that." He continued arranging the stack of papers, even though they were in a neat stack already. "We're going to bring you to the Shrieking Shack."

Brendan turned, if possible, even more pale; he looked oddly like an Inferius by this point, Albus thought.

"But it's haunted," Brendan whispered.

"It is not," Teddy replied. "It's where my dad went." He looked to Albus. "This is where you come in. You have your dad's Invisibility Cloak, yes?"

Albus nodded.

"All right," he said. "I'm going to need to borrow it. We'll use it to smuggle Brendan out of the school."


	23. Year Three: Chapter Three

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Three  
**_

The first transformation of the year had gone without a hitch–even though, of course, Brendan's disappearance had not been unnoticed. The official story was that he had gone home to visit his family–some sort of family emergency–and everyone seemed to accept that as truth. The only problem, of course, was that Brendan came back from the transformation looking even worse than he had before; he had gotten a little thinner, a little paler–and he had cuts, bruises, and scrapes all over his body. He didn't remember when he got any of those; he just knew he woke up on the floor of the Shrieking Shack the next morning, having transformed the night before, and covered with bruises. Teddy had done his best to explain it; werewolves are vicious creatures, and Brendan, finding himself without prey, had attacked himself. Brendan was horrified.

Others seemed to notice how pale Brendan had gotten, how thin, how disheveled; just a few months ago, he had been a star student–handsome, popular, charismatic. But now, he was quiet, drawn-in, sickly. His face had gotten pale and a bit waxy, his cheeks looked sunken in. No one could quite figure out what was wrong. Gabrielle offered, a couple times, to brew a potion to help pick him up, but he politely refused.

"I don't know what's up with Finnigan," Gabrielle said to Neville, as they both sat one evening in the faculty common room. "He's been so off this term."

"Off?" Teddy inquired, suddenly bringing himself into the conversation. "How do you mean?"

"He looks awful," she said, a bit of coldness coming into her voice, now that she spotted Teddy. "And his grades have suffered, too; he didn't even bother to write his essay on the creations of Damocles Belby."

"Scandal!" Teddy gasped, with mock outrage.

"Belby is one of the best potion makers of our time," she snapped. "He singly handedly created the Mandake Restorative Draught, and the Wolfsbane Potion, and–"

"Hold up," Teddy said. "Wolfsbane, eh?"

"Yes," she said, looking a bit quizzical at Teddy. "Wolfsbane."

"Say–is it hard to make?"

"Very hard," she said. "It requires skill that, quite frankly, you don't have."

"Not very many wizards do," Neville interjected, attempting to soften the blow a bit. It didn't work.

"I'm perfectly capable," he replied.

She gave a condescending laugh. "I taught your N.E.W.T. potions class, in case you forgot. You only got an Acceptable, if I'm not mistaken. Just scraped by, Lupin, didn't you?" She paused for a second, for dramatic effect, and then muttered, "Like you always do."

* * *

Oliver had gone down to the Quidditch pitch for tryouts for the team–which he was very excited about. He was guaranteed his spot on the team, of course–James, who was the new captain, had already told him so–and he was relishing being able to tell people things like, "Well, if you work hard enough," and, "I wouldn't expect to much–but by all means, try out anyway." He was positively giddy–especially when a group of giggly fourth year girls began to flirt madly with him, trying to convince him to mess up around the other Chaser hopefuls, so that James would "see the chemistry" between them. Oliver looked so excited that Albus thought, for a minute, that he would actually do it–but Oliver assured him that he would not.

Brendan, Katie, and Rose were all trying out–and they had dragged Albus down to the tryouts, just to watch. He brought a book–which James heckled him for as he zoomed by on his broomstick.

"My brother," James said to Oliver, as the team gathered in the middle of the pitch. "Only Albus would bring a book to the Quidditch tryouts."

James's two best friends, the team's beaters, Edgecombe and Ogden, sniggered loudly–abruptly stopping when Oliver shot them an angry look.

"All right, men," James said. He looked towards Whitney Dawlish, one of their chasers, blushed a bit, and added, "And woman. We're not in bad shape, you know. We have two beaters, two chasers, and of course, me, as your seeker and captain." He gave a self-righteous grin, and said, "If you'll have me, of course." Everyone rolled their eyes a bit at that, but James, still smiling, pretended not to see. "So all we need is another chaser and a keeper. We're holding keeper tryouts first."

"Why?" Edgecombe asked.

"Because, Edgie–" (Edgecombe grimaced; he hated when James called him that.) "–it'd be pretty damn easy for the chaser hopefuls to score when we don't have a keeper," James snapped. "All right. Anything else?" No one said anything. "Then we move, team!" He jabbed his wand into his throat, said, "Sonorus." He cleared his throat–which echoed through the pitch–and then smiled proudly and said, "All right. Keepers first." He looked over at the stands, pointed to a crowd near the bottom, and said, "You lot–line up. First up, Eli Goldstein."

Eli Goldstein, Michael Avery, Evan Dursley, and Janet McDonald were the first four keepers to go–all first years–and they were all equally horrible, most of them probably never had never even ridden a broomstick before. Dursley was the only one of them to block even one shot, and that was probably by accident–despite all the boasting he did about how his dad was a famous Muggle boxer–and James dismissed all four of them with great disdain.

Rose went next–and she did all right. Three for five. James nodded a bit at her, if not just because she was so much better than the last four. She had a smile on her face as she landed, and sat back down next to Albus.

"You did well," he whispered.

"Not too well," she whispered back, "but I'm really here to try out for chaser, anyway."

Katie did even better; she blocked four out of the five goals, and the last one was a really close miss. James looked pleased; he kept watching her during the rest of the tryouts.

Brendan, who had always been so athletic, didn't even make it long enough to see all five shots–and Albus, Rose, and Katie exchanged nervous, knowing looks. He looked even worse, if anything; pale, thin. He blocked his first two shots–but, before Oliver could even shoot the third shot, Brendan signaled to James, landed down next to the base of the center hoop, and then began to walk towards the awaiting Gryffindor team–but he only made it a couple steps, before he fell onto the grass.

James rushed over him on foot, at breakneck speed, faster than everyone else, and looked panicked, as he kneeled down next to Brendan. He could hear–the pitch had gone very silent–James say, "Come on, Finnigan, don't die on me." There was a short pause, and then Brendan slowly sat up. James looked relieved, and helped Brendan back to the stands–to a crowd of applause.

Albus and Katie jumped up–Rose was staying for the chaser tryouts–and they filed downwards, towards Brendan.

"You'll help him to the hospital wing?" James whispered.

Albus nodded, and swung one of Brendan's arms over his shoulders–Katie did the same.

"You're a good guy, Albus," James said, slapping him on the back. And then he ran back to the middle of the pitch, where Juliet Davies was ready for her keeper tryout.

Brendan didn't say anything on the whole way up to the hospital wing–so Katie and Albus stayed silent, the only words being exchanged with Madam Pomfrey, who seemed a bit surprised to see how terrible Brendan looked. She set him up with a bed and pajamas, and ushered Katie and Albus out.

They ran right into Teddy–who seemed a bit surprised to see them outside the hospital wing. They quickly explained the situation, and he pulled them into a small alcove behind a suit of armor.

"I've thought of something," he said, "that should help Finnigan."

"What?"

"The Wolfsbane Potion," Teddy answered. "I'm going to mix it in my office."

"Are you sure you can do that, Teddy?" Albus asked.

"That's Professor Lupin while we're at school, Potter," he snapped. "And yes, I'm perfectly capable."

"It's a hard potion," Albus continued. "I think you should have Gabrielle–er–Professor Delacour do it."

He glared angrily–and Albus said nothing further. "Ten points from Gryffindor," he said–and he stormed off down the corridor.

"What's up with him?" Albus asked.

Katie shrugged. "I don't know. Bad mood though." She looked at her wristwatch. "I think we can still make it back to the tryouts–you know, if you wanted–"

Albus glowered. "I'd rather not. Did Oliver put you up to this? Or maybe James? Wanted to make me look like a fool in front of every Gryffindor, did you?"

"Oliver just said–"

"I don't care what he said. You shouldn't pressure me–when you know I'm scared to death of–"

"But you went into the Forbidden Forest last year!" she protested. "You tried to rescue Brendan, and face Greyback, and I think that's a lot harder to do than ride a silly old broomstick. Your dad would–"

"Don't bring in my family," he snapped at her. "Why? Do you want me to bring in yours?"

She turned white. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," he muttered.

Katie glared at him, pushed him up against her wall, and pushed her wand into his throat. "What did you mean by that?"

"Nothing."

"You meant something," she hissed. "What do you know?"

Albus stood there, a look of complete shock on his face–but he didn't dare move; her wand was right against his throat, quite firmly.

"I–I know who your grandpa is," he whispered.

She backed away, her wand clattering to the floor, and she covered her face. "Oh God–oh God, how did you find out?"

"There's a Black family tree behind the wallpaper in my dad's study," he replied. "And it was on there–Tom Marvolo Riddle–but Katie, I haven't told anyone. No one. Not even Oliver."

She looked at him, tears in her eyes, "You can't imagine how terrible it is to know that I'm descended from–from–him. Sometimes I have to convince myself that I'm not evil–even though I know I have evil running through my veins. It's terrible." She began to cry, and Albus grabbed her, pulled her in close, so that she could cry on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered. "And please don't tell anyone. I don't want anyone to know."

"I won't tell," he replied. "No one."

She gave him a faint, teary grin. "You kept the secret of where my dad was, too. I knew I could trust you."

Albus felt a sudden pang of guilt.


	24. Year Three: Chapter Four

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Sorry this chapter is a bit short. The coming chapters will be longer and with a bit more action.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Four  
**_

Teddy appeared in his office–and Gabrielle was already there, sitting in his chair with her feet up on his desk. Damn it. She was supposed to wait outside for him, so they could go to the staff meeting together.

"What are you mixing?" she asked, running her hands along the lips of the cauldron.

"Just–just something for fun."

"Wolfsbane?" she asked, picking up the recipe–jotted down quickly on a piece of parchment–that laid on the edge of Teddy's desk. She looked at him. "For fun?"

"Yes," he said, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "Just testing my potion skills."

"Well, this is all wrong," she said. "It's supposed to be green–and steaming." She looked up at him. "Yours is red, and its boiling. Are you sure you put the boomslang skin in when the cauldron reached a hundred and forty-one degrees precisely?"

"I might have fudged it a bit."

"Well, it could be poisonous," she said. "I hope you were going to give it to anyone. Bad Wolfsbane Potion can have dire effects, you know." She gave a bit of a knowing grin. "But you were just mixing it–for fun."

"All right," he said. "I–I need it."

"Not for you, though."

"It–it could be."

"No it couldn't," she said. "On the night of the last full moon, you were with Albus. He told me."

"Maybe he's covering for me."

"Albus Potter–lie to a teacher? He'd rather hex off his own arm off." She shrugged a bit. "If you're keeping a secret–as I suspect you are–then you don't have to tell me. But I can't help you."

There was a long, drawn out silence. "It's Finnigan," he said slowly.

"No!" she gasped. "When?"

"Last spring," he said. "Right at the end of the year, or so I gather. They didn't want to discuss details."

"They? Oh. You mean Potter, Wood, and Finnigan."

"Who else?" he replied. "And they asked me to bring him to the Shrieking Shack when he transformed last month. And I did it."

"Charlie could fire you for that."

"I know," he said, "but some things are just that damned important."

"And you're making–attempting to make, anyway–a Wolfsbane Potion for him?"

"That's the idea. You saw him. Covered with cuts and bruises–so weak they had to take him to the hospital wing."

"That was two weeks ago," she said. "When's the next full moon?"

"Monday night."

"Too soon," she said. She looked at the cauldron. "You're not going to give him this, are you?"

"Of course not."

"All right," she said. "I can help–for Finnigan's sake."

"Not for mine, of course," he muttered.

"And there you go!" she gasped. "Teddy–can't we just drop this all? I told you. I liked you. But it's in the past. You're with Victoire again and I–I'm fine being single. I couldn't be happier for you. Can't we just go back to being friends?"

"All right," he said. "We can."

"Good," she answered. She waved her wand, draining the contents of the cauldron. "It's going to take a while before it's effective, though, you realize."

"How long?"

"Four months," she said. "In fact, I don't think we can expect it until we're back from the holidays–at the very earliest."

"That's four transformations," he said, "where Finnigan will be biting, clawing, and ripping himself apart."

"It's terrible," she admitted. "But it's the best we can do."

"My dad kept his mind–a little better–when he was with his friends."

"Brave friends."

"They were animagi," Teddy explained. "We need animagi."

"That'll take even longer. Didn't you pay attention at all as a student?"

"Only in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said, blushing so that his face and hair all turned red. He noticed this, and turned his hair back to its natural brown. "I'll have to think of something."

* * *

Katie, Albus decided, was avoiding him. And reasonably so; he let it slip that he knew a secret so terrible that it could destroy everything for her. She would be better off a werewolf than a descendent of Lord Voldemort. He couldn't bear to think of what the wizarding community would do to her. Probably sick a dementor on her–no, they wouldn't even think she had a soul. They were probably just kill her–painfully, even–or torture her into insanity. No–that was too hard to even think about.

She had been quite good at dodging Albus, though; she had been made the new Gryffindor keeper, and she and Oliver were down at the pitch practicing three nights a week; James had the goal of going down in history as the team's best captain–which would look good on his resume if he played professional after Hogwarts, and that was his goal, after all.

Albus spent most of his time with Brendan and Rose, then–which was anything but fun. Rose, of course, was still the perky, positive person that she always was–but Brendan was becoming impossible to deal with. And Albus couldn't even blame him; he didn't think he'd react any better if he had been bitten by a werewolf. Brendan became just a shell of his former self, though, which was troubling. He hardly spoke to anyone but Oliver, Katie, Albus, and Rose, and he stayed inside their bedroom all the time, except for classes and meals. But he wasn't studying. Brendan was falling behind in all of his classes–and Albus knew that, because several teachers had mentioned something about it. He just sat in his room, sleeping a lot, sometimes just sitting in silence, as he got thinner and paler. Albus was worried about him.

Rose was worried, too–but she did her best to keep up the spirits of Albus and Brendan–even as futile as that may have been. But even the mention of their first-ever Hogsmeade weekend couldn't cheer Brendan up; he said, a bit simply, that he wasn't going to be going. It helped Albus a bit, though. He couldn't wait.


	25. Year Three: Chapter Five

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter**__** Five**_

The first Hogsmeade weekend was upon them–and Albus pleaded with Brendan one last time to come along. But he wouldn't. His exact words, if Albus remembered correctly, was, "No, I'm too busy here today." Even though everyone knew he wasn't. He was in bad spirits, too; the full moon had just been a week ago and, even though he didn't have any cuts or bruises this time, it was nevertheless equally traumatic for him. He looked, if that was possible, even worse. And Albus hated that Brendan just sat on his bed, wasting away.

Still, he would be the only third year staying behind; everyone else, it appeared, had turned out in droves, relishing their first sip of butterbeer, the sweets they would eat at Honeydukes, or all the stuff they could buy at the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes branch store in Hogsmeade, where Zonko's used to be.

Katie and Rose disappeared almost at once–shoe sale at Gladrags, you know–but they agreed to meet Oliver and Albus at the Three Broomsticks at around three. That left Albus and Oliver free to wander the town.

There was a knock on Neville's door–and, as he crossed the room to open it, he could already hear Gabrielle's voice. "Neville, are you going to Hogsmeade?"

He opened the door. "Yes."

"All right. I'm meeting Teddy at the Three Broomsticks and we were wondering–" She stopped, studying Neville for a moment. New dress robes, freshly combed hair, the lingering smell of cologne. "Hot date today, Neville?"

"Not quite a date," he said shyly. "Luna and I were just going to go to Madam Puddifoot's–you know, to discuss the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"So it is a date!"

Neville turned a bit red, suddenly became interested in his shoes, and said, "Well, not entirely–but she did ask me to go with her." He gave a wide grin. "It could be the start of something, at least."

"Well," she said, "if it does go poorly–which it won't–I'm meeting Teddy at the Three Broomsticks, and we'd love to have you."

"Things aren't awkward?"

"No," she said. "Not at all. I've been helping him with–" It was her turn to flush a bit red. "With his lesson plan."

Neville seemed to know that quite how the sentence was supposed to end–but said nothing.

"Do you think I look okay?" he asked.

"Oh, Neville!" she grinned. "You look very handsome. You're going to win her over. I know it."

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, gave himself a bit of a smile, and then nervously said, "I sure hope so."

* * *

"Look at these," Oliver said breathlessly, as he played with the Reusable Hangman. He poked the little wooden man–who poked back, it turned out–and Oliver didn't seem so keen on it after that.

"I'm just surprised it's still going strong," Albus said, looking around the store. "After Uncle George died, we didn't know what was going to happen to the stores."

"His wife is running them?"

Albus nodded, a bit coolly. "Yes, Aunt Romilda. But no one in the family likes her."

"No?"

"Uncle Charlie–Professor Weasley, I mean–thinks she only married Uncle George for the money. And it could be true. She's spoiled as hell."

"Rich as hell, too," Oliver replied. "What time is it?"

"Nearly three," Albus said. "Think we should go and meet the girls?"

Oliver nodded, grabbing one last set of Extendable Ears, before the two of them went to go pay for all of their purchases–Portable Swamps, Extendable Ears, Shield Cloaks, and Canary Creams–and then they went off to the Three Broomsticks.

Albus had never been in the Three Broomsticks. Oliver had once, two years ago, but no one except for Teddy knew about that one–and Oliver wasn't even sure if Teddy remembered; he had been rather drunk at the time.

Rose and Katie were already there, sitting at a table with four butterbeers. Oliver and Albus quickly joined them–suddenly dissolving into a loud conversation about their day.

Albus stopped talking suddenly–and the other three noticed. He had focused on a familiar face at the next table–which he only, after staring for a few minutes, recognized as Teddy–and he let out a gasp.

Rose, Oliver, and Katie all turned, too, and also gasped. Teddy, always handsome and neat, looked like he had fallen off the Astronomy tower. He had two black eyes, a cut lip, and a deep gash, now turning purple, on his cheek. He sat there, just a lump in the chair, sipping a large tankard of firewhisky with what appeared to be great effort, his lips arranged in a painful grimace.

"What the hell happened to him?" Oliver whispered.

* * *

Neville practically skipped to Madam Puddifoot's, a permanent smiling grazing his boyish face.

Luna was already there–looking beautiful. Perhaps it was the glow from the lantern that hung over her table–or, perhaps, it was just the absence of the radish earrings and butterbeer cork necklace; it was just her, dressed plainly but attractively in dark blue robes, her curly blonde hair hanging down in her face.

"I'm glad you could come," she said. "I ordered you a tea."

"Oh–that's fine," he said, sitting down across from her. "I thought I was supposed to do that."

"Do what?"

"Never mind. I'm–I just don't do this very often."

She looked at him a bit quizzically, narrowed her eyes a bit, and asked, "Do what often?"

The door swung open again, and Rolf stood there–a smile on his face as well, as he pulled up a chair between Neville and Luna. "I'm sorry I'm late, dear," he said, kissing Luna on the cheek.

Neville felt his grin slip off his face–so he quickly hoisted it back up when they both turned back to him. "I didn't know you would be coming," he said, trying to sound as breezy as he could–none of that underlying bitterness, of course.

"Oh, of course!" he said. "If we're going to go to Sweden, we have to start planning already."

As Luna leaned over, kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, and began to read over his shoulder at the thick mound of documents he brought in, Neville slowly sunk down in his chair.

Gabrielle, entering the Three Broomsticks and, upon seeing Teddy, she let out a loud gasp, dropped her purse to the ground, and stared. Teddy saw her–he was facing in her direction, after all–but showed no sign of actually recognizing her.

She went over to his table, sat down, and stared at him for a second.

"What?" he muttered.

"You–what happened to you?" she choked out.

"Fell down the stairs," he said plainly.

"That's a lie," she whispered. "What really happened?"

"I'm a metamorphmagus."

"You didn't!"

He nodded a bit, leaning in–at great pain, it looked like. "You've saw him after the last time," he replied. "He'll kill himself before we get the Wolfsbane Potion done–so I turned into another wolf."

"And he fought you?"

Teddy tried to shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible–quite a feat, of course, looking like he did. "It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? Look at you!"

"It's only for three more transformations," he replied, "until you get the Wolfsbane Potion done. It's fine. I can do it three more times." He leaned in a little more, dropping his voice even further. "You didn't hear the gossip last time, did you?"

"No."

"Everyone was talking," he said, "about Brendan. How he disappeared–and came back looking like he did. They were all talking. If it happened again–hell, someone would notice, don't you think? Scorpius Malfoy already mentioned that it was odd it happened on the night of the full moon. And Malfoy's a little bitch. He'd tell Charlie, and then where would we be? Where would Brendan be?"

He leaned back a bit, drank a little more firewhisky, and said, "I'll be fine."

"What happened to you?" gasped Victoire, later that evening, as Teddy's face appeared in her fireplace. "You look like–"

"I fell," he said plainly. "How's France?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" she said. "I've so much to tell you. I had a meeting with the French Minister of Magic this morning–and he offered me the position of Junior Minister!"

"That's wonderful!" Teddy exclaimed. "Though it seems a bit odd, doesn't it, to take a job for five months?"

Victoire said nothing; she only looked away–said something about in quick French to someone that he couldn't see–probably Louis, Teddy thought bitterly. She turned back to Teddy. "It might be a bit longer than a year, darling."

"How much longer?"

"Oh, that's Louis with dinner now!" she exclaimed. "I have to go."

"No, wait!" Teddy exclaimed. "Victoire, wait!"

She looked at him for another second, and the last thing he saw was Victoire pouring a large goblet of water into the fireplace.


	26. Year Three: Chapter Six

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Six**_

Victoire didn't come home for Christmas, nor did she invite Teddy to France–which bothered him a bit. She was probably spending it with Louis, he thought, a fresh wave of bitterness coming into his head. But he resolved to keep himself busy, by staying at Hogwarts–patrolling the halls and the like. Quite a few people were staying this Christmas–including, to his displeasure, Scorpius and Cassiopeia Malfoy. He didn't mind the girl–Cassie was quiet, seemed kind–but Scorpius was just a barrel of annoying, or so Teddy liked to think. The young Malfoy was always out of bounds, always in detention–but he was hugely popular, except in Gryffindor, where he was strongly disliked–especially by Albus and his friends. Teddy couldn't stand him, either; scarcely one day of the holiday had finished, and Filch was already hollering through the halls about a portable swamp that was sticking to the walls. No one could prove anything–but Teddy was sure who had done it.

"Lurking again, are we, Malfoy?"

He had just found Scorpius, with a full-looking rucksack, crouching behind the statue of Doric the Dastardly on the fourth floor.

"I had just dropped something, Professor Lupin," Scorpius answered, trying to force an innocent smile onto his face. Teddy continued to glare.

"Open your bag, Malfoy."

Scorpius hesitated for a moment, then opened the bag–full of Weasleys' products.

"This certainly screams innocent, doesn't it?" Teddy said, rooting through the whole thing. "Portable swamps–I daresay Filch found one of these stuck to the wall the other day. A nice touch." He slammed the bag into Scorpius's chest, and said, "Detention, the first four Saturdays of the term."

"Not at all harsh," Scorpius muttered sarcastically. Teddy heard him.

"I can give you more if you'd like," he offered.

"For one portable swamp? Four detentions? I bet if Albus Potter–"

"I treat all my students equally."

"Not Albus," Scorpius sneered. "You treat him like he's your brother–when we all know he's a little–"

"Don't finish that sentence," Teddy warned. "And Albus isn't very fond of you, either." He grinned a bit. "You're nothing like your father. He wouldn't have been so threatened by a little academic competition."

"I could beat Potter any day. He hasn't got enough brains to fill a time-turner."

"Funny," Teddy replied, "because, if memory serves me correctly, he's top in your class. And you're second to him, if I'm not mistaken. Jealousy is a wicked thing, Malfoy. A wicked thing."

Scorpius glared at him, then skulked off down the hallway.

* * *

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, had rebounded from its low-key Christmas the year before–and, as usual, it was packed to the brim with Weasleys; the Potters, Arthur and Molly, Ron and Hermione, Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Romilda–all their descendents–and, of course, Oliver, who had become a fixture around the holidays for the last three years, while his dad was off playing Quidditch. 

"Is it true, Dad?" asked James, coming into the kitchen. "Edgecombe just told me his older brother got a letter–and you're coming to Hogwarts next term?"

"That's right," he said. "Teddy asked me to give a lecture on the defeat of Voldemort–" (Ron, from across the room, gave a noticeable wince.) "–for his sixth years." He looked at his sons, stared at them a bit seriously, and repeated, "For sixth years." Without stopping to gage the expressions of James and Albus, he continued, albeit a bit bitterly, "There's a legilimency and occlumency seminar being taught that same day–and Charlie thought it would be_wonderful _if I helped out with it while I was at Hogwarts."

"Who's teaching that?"

"Draco Malfoy," Harry replied. "Stupid git." He cleared his throat loudly, looked a bit embarrassed. "He's a good occlumens though, of course, but I doubt he wants my help, anyway. It's the two of us and your Transfiguration professor–Professor Maxwell, or something–who also knows occlumency."

"Oh, you'll like her, Dad," James said, grinning a bit. "Edgecombe and I polled all the blokes in Gryffindor and we decided that–after Gabrielle, of course–she's the female professor with the perkiest set of–"

"Thank you, James."

"What? I was going to say potion scales!" James gasped, with mock innocence.

Harry grinned at him, slapped him on the shoulder playfully, and then said, "Don't let your mother hear you; she'll get jealous. Of course, maybe she won't let me go, then. I'd like that. The occlumency seminar open to everyone, so you two will know why, after you see me fall flat on my face." He gave a bit of a lopsided grin, then explained, "I'm hopeless at occlumency. I wear my emotions right on my sleeves." His smile becoming a bit bigger, he said, "But let's not talk about that. How was the end of the term?"

Albus opened his mouth to respond, but James beat him to it. "All of these first years keep following me around," he said, only partially pretending that he didn't find this incredibly flattering. "I think they figure if they get on my good side, I'll somehow make them popular–or, at least, put them on the Quidditch team with me. I swear, if I catch Goldstein, Avery, or Dursley anywhere near me when I get back–"

"Dursley?" Harry repeated. "It wouldn't be–damn it, what was his name?"

"Evan Dursley, I think," James replied. "Stocky, not very much neck, blonde hair?"

Harry's grin disappeared from his face–but then returned, only this time, it was a bit thin and bitter. "He's your second cousin."

"You're kidding!" James gasped. "But he's a Muggle-born."

"Well, my cousin is a Muggle," Harry replied. "On my mum's side, you know. She was Muggle-born, too."

"You said you had no family left," James reminded. "Remember? I asked you why we always spend Christmas with mum's family–and you said that your whole family was dead."

"I may have embellished a bit there," he said. "My aunt and uncle are dead–much like I told you; they died in a car crash about ten years ago." He stopped for a moment, looked at Albus and James's faces, debating for a moment as if he should continue, then said slowly, "But my cousin, Dudley, is still alive, I think. Living in Surrey."

"Why haven't we ever seen him?"

"We never got on," Harry replied. He stood up quickly, letting them know the conversation had, indeed, abruptly stopped. "Excuse me. I think I hear Ginny calling me."

* * *

"I wonder what Brendan's doing," Oliver said, as he and Albus played Exploding Snap on Albus's bed later that day–as they often did when Oliver visited the Potter household.

"There's no full moon over the holiday," Albus replied. "Don't you pay any attention in Astronomy?"

Oliver gave a mischievous grin, and said, "Of course I don't. How many papers have I copied from you?"

"About a million," Albus said. Then the two boys both began to laugh.

"But," Oliver said, after a bit, "don't you think his parents are going to be suspicious when they see him? He looks terrible, you know. What if they try to take him to St. Mungo's?"

"We'll just have to hope they don't, then," Albus replied. "Brendan said it himself; he doesn't want them to find out. His parents would worry something awful, he said." He shrugged a bit. "I guess mine would too."

Oliver suddenly looked gloomy. "My dad probably wouldn't even notice anything. This is the third Christmas in a row that I'm stuck here." He paused. "No, that came out wrong. I love it here–and I'm so glad that you guys take me in every Christmas, but–hell, Albus, I'd like to have Christmas at home every once in a while, you know?"

"Maybe next year," he said, "your dad won't be playing Quidditch."

"Fat chance," Oliver replied. "As long as they play the Christmas Quidditch Classic, he'll be abroad–in some exotic place, pretending he doesn't have a son. Things were just better before Mum died, you know?" He shook his head, forced a grin, and then said, "Never mind. It's Christmas. I shouldn't be gloomy."

"No, you shouldn't," Albus agreed with a coaxing smile. "Let's finish the game."


	27. Year Three: Chapter Seven

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up; I've had a ton of papers due recently. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. Please note, this chapter quotes select passages from the actual series. Obviously, I didn't write them. It also includes quoted passages from previous chapters in this series. Obviously, I did write those. Just clarifying. Enjoy!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Seven**_

"Thanks for coming, Finnigan," Teddy said, as Brendan entered his office. The poor boy had gotten even more sickly. His skin looked like pale gray porridge–both in color and texture–and he had easily lost twenty pounds since six months ago, before he was bitten.

Gabrielle noticed too; she stood there, a bit wide-eyed–but then quickly thought that was rude, and looked back towards Teddy.

"The full moon," Teddy said, "is on Saturday."

Brendan said nothing at first; his eyes filled with tears, and he looked towards his professor. "I–I know, sir. And I wanted to thank you–for everything. For transforming with me."

Teddy's eyes narrowed a bit. "How'd you hear about that?"

"Albus and Oliver overheard it on the first Hogsmeade weekend–at the Three Broomsticks." His lips were quivering by this point, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. "It was ages ago–but I didn't want you to know that I knew." He paused for a second, brushed the tears out of his eyes, "But I wanted to thank you."

Teddy gave him a thin grin. "It's no problem, Finnigan. I was happy to do it."

"But you can't do it again," Brendan said. "I know Madam Pomfrey can't do anything about werewolf injuries–and you looked so terrible after each time I–I transformed."

"It wasn't a problem," Teddy repeated. "But I don't need to do it again. It took a hell of a lot longer than any of us expected but we've finished the Wolfsbane Potion."

Brendan's eyes lit up–for the first time in what must've been months–and the color quickly returned to his face. "Are–are you serious?" he gasped. "It's really finished?"

Teddy grinned at him. "It's true." He conjured up a brass goblet, dunked it in the large cauldron, and handed it to Brendan–who looked a bit nervously at it; it was smoking, after all. "It's not going to taste good–or so I read. But the benefits, I think, outweigh the negatives."

Brendan nodded quickly and, without saying anything, grabbed the goblet, and downed it in one chug. He winced a bit, but then gave a broad smile–which, in turn, made Gabrielle and Teddy smile too.

"You'll need to take it once a day for the whole week," Gabrielle said. "And when you transform, you'll keep your mind. And you won't attack anyone–or yourself. Now, get back to dinner–before anyone notices you're gone."

Brendan smiled again at them, looking more pleased and happier than he had been in recent memory–and he practically ran out of the office with excitement.

* * *

"Dad! Dad!" Albus called, as he sprinted through the corridor, leaving Oliver, Rose, Brendan, and Katie behind him.

Harry wheeled around, then spotted his son, and smiled. "I just finished my lecture. Are you on your way to the occlumency seminar?"

Albus grinned. "I wouldn't miss that."

Harry stiffened a bit. "I thought you might say that."

The Great Hall was set for the seminar; the house tables had been pushed to the side, and Teddyand Draco Malfoy already stood behind the high table, looking over the already crowded room. Harry bid Albus goodbye, and went to join his colleagues.

"All ready, Potter?" Draco Malfoy asked, a bit of a smug grin on his face.

Harry continued to glare at his former nemesis. "Couldn't be more ready," he snapped. "Are we still waiting on Professor Maxwell?"

"No," said Malfoy. "She's fallen ill–so Professor Lupin is going to fill in for her."

"You might have met an occlumens worse than you," Teddy said to Harry, with a grin. "I'm like you–emotions on the sleeves, and all that."

"You should have Charlie do it, Malfoy," Harry replied. "He's a good occlumens."

"I would have," Draco answered. "But he's out of town for the next few days–visiting the Ministry." He said nothing more; he just tapped his throat with his wand, whispered, "Sonorus," and then greeted the crowd of students. He spent several minutes describing the finer points of occlumency and legilimency, and then began to pair them off.

"Your boy, Potter?" he called to Harry, as he tapped Albus on the shoulder. With a grin–growing smugger by the second–he waved over Scorpius. "Scorpius, you go with the young Potter here. Let's see if he's a better occlumens than his dear old dad."

And he skulked off, leaving Scorpius and Albus facing each other, each with their wands drawn, both grinning sadistically at each other.

"I wonder if you'll be better than me at something," Albus said. "I mean, it'd be a first for you, right?"

"Shut your face, Potter," Scorpius growled.

"So creative," Albus snapped back .

"All right!" Draco called. "Legilimens–ready on three. One, two, three."

"Legilimens," hissed Scorpius–and half the room.

Albus felt the Great Hall disappearing out from under him, and he suddenly saw only the Quidditch pitch, filled with Gryffindors, all ready for the Quidditch team tryout…

_James came sauntering over, juggling the Snitch in one hand, holding his broomstick with the other._

_With a smug grin, he said, "You weren't thinking of flying, little bro, were you?"_

"_You know me," Albus said slowly. "Oliver just forgot it. He ran off."_

_McLaggen came up behind James, clapped his star seeker on the back, and said, "Another great finish, Potter. We're going to have a shot at the cup this year, I know it." His eyes fixated on Albus, holding Oliver's broomstick, and he gave a bit of a patronizing smile. "Eh, Potter, I thought you said your geeky little brother was scared to death of anything airborne." He gave a bit of a chuckle, reenacted a fall from a broomstick, and James smiled–but turned a bit red._

_Albus hitched up a smile–which he feared was even faker than Oliver's–and said, "I was just holding this for Oliver while he showered."_

_McLaggen looked over to the locker rooms, leaning even more on James's shoulder, then said, "He's friends with Oliver? I never would have guessed it. I mean, Oliver's so cool–for a second year."_

"_All right, McLaggen," James said sternly. "I think we should hit the showers too–"_

"_Oh, come off of it, Potter," McLaggen said, still focusing maliciously on James. "Even you said that your brother is lamer than–"_

"_That's enough!" James hollered. Without another word–not so much as a farewell to Albus, he grabbed McLaggen by the shirt collar, and pulled him away._

_Albus stood there, cold, unfeeling–and he didn't know why. He felt sad, but a little empty–and that wasn't normal for him. He should have been devastated, and he knew that, but he had somehow passed that, and the whole conversation still wasn't registering in his head. He just stood there–and he didn't even think he was showing emotion, until he felt a drop of water running down his hot cheek. He blinked a couple of times, pasted that smile onto his face, and turned towards his friends. "You all go back up. I'm going to give this broom back to Oliver before I forget."_

This scene faded, and Albus was in the Forbidden Forest, running through the underbrush, Oliver at his side.

_He looked at the map again. Almost there._

_The weird part, though, is that Albus wasn't afraid. He expected he would be–after all, he couldn't even mount a broom without his heart coming into his throat. But walking through the forest with Oliver, going to rescue Brendan from his imminent doom–there was something oddly comfortable, oddly right about it. And he couldn't help but smile._

_I am a Gryffindor, he thought, swelling with pride._

_And then he heard a howl–and he and Oliver, instinctively and in unison, looked up at the sky._

_A full moon. Tonight was a full moon._

"_Holy hell," Oliver whispered. "Do you think–"_

_Brendan came sprinting out onto the path, about a fifty yards ahead of them; they could barely make him out in the dark, but he seemed to know it was them. "Get out of the way!" he shrieked. They could already see that his robes were torn, bloody–but he seemed to be okay._

_And then, at his heels, was a giant brown wolf, snarling, foaming at the mouth._

"_It's him," Oliver whimpered. "What are we supposed to do, Albus?"_

_Albus held his wand out a bit further–as if that would do anything–and he shouted, "Stupefy." But that seemed to do nothing; the curse missed both of them, and they kept running towards them._

"_Together, now," Albus yelled._

"_Stupefy!" he and Oliver yelled–and the beams of light from their curses joined, and slammed into the nearest figure–into Brendan, who toppled to the ground._

Albus suddenly spun back to reality. Can't let him see anymore of that, he thought, and before he knew it, the Great Hall was completely back in focus, and Scorpius lied on the ground, staring up at him.

Draco came around, to look at everyone's progress–and even he had to admit that Albus had done a decent job, even though Scorpius had managed to get pretty far into his head. But Albus wasn't proud; he was humiliated with the first memory that Scorpius saw–and, based on Scorpius's thin, knowing smile, he could tell that Scorpius was relishing having seen such a thing. He was even madder at himself for almost letting the last memory slip; he couldn't let anyone know Brendan's secret, let alone Scorpius; he would tell everyone at Hogwarts, surely.

"Switch!" Draco hollered. "Legilimens on three. One, two , three."

"Legilimens," said Albus.

"_Second to the Potter boy?" Draco gasped. "Scorpius, that's just unacceptable."_

_Scorpius sat there, scowling, on the edge of an ornate sofa, his head buried in his hands. "I really tried the best I could, Father. I don't know; he just did better."_

"_It's unacceptable," Draco repeated. "He's a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. I have never been so disappointed in you. If you're going to be a Slytherin, you better do a damned better job of beating him." He paused for a moment. "And I hear he fought Greyback last year."_

"_That's just a rumor," Scorpius muttered. "Professor Parkinson doesn't even think that Greyback was anywhere near Hogwarts last year."_

"_Even so," Draco said, "at least he's doing something other than pulling pranks. I get a letter every other day, telling me about how you're disgracing the good name Malfoy–"_

The Great Hall pulled back into focus, as Scorpius hexed Albus, making him fall to the ground. Scorpius was practically growling, his face bright red with anger. He opened his mouth as if to say something–but stopped .He didn't have time to say anything before they suddenly switched partners–and, to Albus's surprise, he was paired up with his father, who was smiling a bit at him.

"It's all right if you don't get it at first," Harry said. "It's hard magic, you know."

"Legilimens on three," Draco said again. "One, two, three."

"Legilimens," Albus said, flicking his wand–and he felt himself brought back to his house–number twelve, Grimmauld Place, but the house was different–in a much shabbier state, and long before his parents moved in and renovated the place.

"_Who's Greyback?"_

"_You haven't heard of him?" Lupin's hands closed convulsively in his lap. "Fenrir Greyback is, perhaps, the most savage werewolf alive today. He regards it as his mission in life to bite and to contaminate as many people as possible; he wants to create enough werewolves to overcome the wizards… Greyback specializes in children… Bite them young, he says, and raise them to hate normal wizards."_

_Lupin paused and then said, "It was Greyback who bit me."_

"_What?" said Harry, astonished. "When–when you were a kid, you mean?"_

"_I did not know, for a very long time, the identify of the werewolf who attacked me; I even felt pity for him, thinking he had no control, ensuring that he is near enough to strike. He plans it all."_

Grimmauld Place dissolved into the headmaster's office, where he saw his father, aged fifteen, and an elderly-looking Dumbledore.

"_Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human–"_

"_THEN–I–DON'T–WANT–TO–BE–HUMAN!" Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred little tiny pieces against the wall. Several of the pictures let out yells of anger and fright, and the portrait of Armando Dippet said, "Really!"_

"_I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE–"_

The next thing Albus knew, the world was spinning back–the Great Hall came back into focus, just barely, and he heard a loud shriek, through gritted teeth, "NOT–FOR–YOU!" And Albus felt himself being propelled through the air–until he slammed into the back wall about twenty feet in the air, and then slid down onto the top of the Gryffindor table.

"Potter!" Draco hollered at Harry. "What the hell did you do?"

Harry sprinted over to his son, tapped him with his wand, and said, "Episkey." Then, after a pause, he helped Albus off the table. "You're all right, aren't you, Al?"

"I'm fine," he replied. "What happened back there?"

Harry turned a bit red. "Nothing–no, you just touched upon a bit of a sensitive memory." Without giving Albus a chance to respond, he said, "Why don't we switch partners again?" He pulled over Teddy and Rose, who had been partnered up. "I'll be with Teddy, and Albus, you can be with Rose."

Teddy and Harry went back to the center of the room.

"Quite the scene," Teddy remarked. "What did Albus see, anyway?"

Harry glared at him, clearly insinuating that the subject was not to be discussed further.

"Legilimens on three," Draco called. "One, two, three."

"Legilimens!" said Teddy.

The Great Hall dissolved into Grimmauld Place–again, before Harry and Ginny had renovated it. And he saw, standing in front of a seventeen-year-old Hermione, Harry, and Ron–his father, standing there, in the flesh–for the first time in his life.

"_Remus," said Hermione tentatively, "is everything all right… you know… between you and–"_

"_Everything is fine, thank you," said Lupin pointedly._

_Hermione turned pink. There was another pause, an awkward and embarrassed one, and then Lupin said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, "Tonks is going to have a baby."_

_Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry._

"_Just–just to be clear," he said. "You want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"_

"_She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. "Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you."_

"_Well," Harry said slowly, "I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your own kid, actually."_

"_You don't understand," said Lupin at last. "I–I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since."_

"_I see," said Harry, "so you're just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?"_

"_Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I've made her an outcast! Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf. And the child–the child–"_

Harry struck Teddy with some sort of jinx, then fell to his knees as Teddy toppled over. Teddy lied there, on the ground, staring up at the starry ceiling. And then, after a bit, he sat up.

Harry was staring at him–the two met eyes for a bit, in silence.

Teddy was the first to speak, as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Twenty-one years," he whispered to his godfather, "and you never told me?"


	28. Year Three: Chapter Eight

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
Author's Note: Again, sorry for the delay; we're entering finals week.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**hapter Eight**_

Harry had been looking for Teddy for the better part of an hour–until he ran into Charlie, who quickly explained that Teddy had come back to the faculty common room to grab his cloak, said something about the Three Broomsticks, and then shuffled off.

Indeed, Teddy was there, already on his umpteenth glass of firewhisky, slumped over the counter.

"Go away," he croaked, as he saw Harry enter through the doors. "Get the hell away from me." He looked up at Harry–who saw that Teddy's eyes were filled with tears, still, and quite puffy and red. "You didn't tell me he tried to l–leave me and my mum!" Teddy gasped. "Twenty-one years, you told me how much of a hero he was, how he died to give me a better life–and you lied to me! He didn't give a damn about me or my mum. He was probably happy when she died, wasn't he? 'Solves that problem,' he probably said to himself. That bastard."

"Your dad was a good man."

"He wasn't!" Teddy shrieked. "Don't you understand your own memory? Even you were angry because he wanted to leave us."

"He was a werewolf, Teddy," Harry hissed, "and he felt guilty for marrying your mum because he thought everyone had shunned her because of the marriage. But they didn't! And he thought he was going to pass on his lycanthropy to you–but he didn't! Teddy, he wanted to leave you and your mum for five minutes one day–and believe me when I say that was his darkest five minutes. But he stayed by your mum's side, and he stayed by your side, and he did die so that you could have a better life–a life where you didn't have to live in fear. Don't you understand that?"

"Just–just," Teddy whispered. "Just leave me alone, will you?"

"I'm here to talk," Harry replied. "I'm going home now, but I want to talk to you tomorrow, when you're rested–all right? My work fireplace at about eleven? Can you promise me that?"

"Yes," Teddy replied. "Now leave. I just want to be alone for a little bit."

Harry said nothing more; he grabbed his cloak, and headed out of the tavern–nearly running into Gabrielle as he did so.

"He just wants to be alone," Harry said quickly.

"I figured," she said, "but I still want to talk to him. I'll meet you back up at the castle."

Harry shrugged, continued his exit–and Gabrielle came inside, sat down on the stool next to Teddy.

"I know what you saw," she said. "And I'm sorry."

"You don't know the half of it," he said. "I always worshipped my dad, you know? I thought of him as this big hero or something. But he wasn't."

"He was human," she said quietly. "And I think Harry's right. No matter what you saw in the memory, I'm sure he really did love you. How could he not?"

Teddy leaned in a bit closer to her–then regained his balance, because the simple movement almost caused him to fall off the stool–and whispered, "Thank you for coming here."

"Neville wanted to come, too," she said, "but he had to patrol the corridors tonight. He sends his best." She stiffened a bit. "Maybe it's better that he didn't come. Maybe I shouldn't have, either. You want to be alone? I heard you telling Harry."

"I really don't want to be alone," he whispered. He gave a wide, toothy smile. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything," he said. "Three years I've been here now–and I couldn't have made it through without you. You're just so wonderful, and I–I–" He let his voice trail off, and they sat there, as still as they could be, for what seemed like a thousand years–and then Teddy leaned in a little more, so that there lips were almost touching. Gabrielle could feel his hot, alcohol-reeking breath on her mouth–and Teddy suddenly felt a sting of guilt ride up in his stomach and he backed away a bit. "Thank you," he said plainly.

She looked a bit disappointed, but faked a smile anyway. "You're welcome."

* * *

Albus lied down on his bed, studying the curtains for what seemed like hours, the words, "THEN–I–DON'T–WANT–TO–BE–HUMAN!" yelling, in his dad's fifteen-year-old voice, over and over inside his head.

"Still thinking about it?" Oliver asked sympathetically. "He's only human, Albus. You caught him at his worst. Everyone flips out sometimes."

"But not my dad," Albus said slowly. "He's always been so level-headed, you know? I've never even seen him snap at anyone."

"He's an Auror," Oliver replied. "He must have snapped at someone before, you know."

"But not like this," Albus replied. "He–he looked seriously deranged, you know? He was just standing there, chucking Dumbledore's stuff into the fire, and screaming. I can't even imagine what had happened."

"You could ask him," Oliver suggested.

"He'd never tell," Albus answered. "You don't know how secretive he can be about all of this stuff. Every time I ask him–no, he just says that I'm too young, and he doesn't want to burden me with those sorts of things. And then he changes the topic to Quidditch, or the weather, or something like that."

"Maybe it's a good thing," Oliver replied ."That he doesn't want you to know. He defeated You-Know-Who. It couldn't have been pretty, right? Do you know how many people died? It probably devastated him–and he doesn't want to relive it, and he sure as hell doesn't want you to know about it."

Albus said nothing.

"What was the other thing?" Brendan asked. "About Greyback, I mean."

"He positions himself near children before he transforms," Albus said, "and then he attacks. He always wanted to create a werewolf army–bite as many people as possible, and then overtake the wizards."

Brendan grimaced a bit. "You–you don't think that's what he was trying to do with me, do you?"

"It could have been," Albus replied. "It makes sense, doesn't it? He found out that Professor Weasley was going to be out of town–and so he positioned himself in the Forbidden Forest, waited for the first person to stumble across–" His voice trailed off. "You realize what tonight is?"

"The full moon," Brendan said. With a grin, he said, "Trust me. I know."

Albus gave a bit of a smile. Ever since he started taking the Wolfsbane–which he had for his last two transformations–his health had improved dramatically. His skin had lost its porridge-like complexion, had turned a bit rosier, and his face had filled out a little; he looked, for the first time in nearly a year, like himself again–and, more importantly, he was acting like himself again, which Albus and Oliver were both very thankful for. He no longer feared the full moon as much as he did before; it wasn't the worst thing in the world to run about the Forest and the grounds as a harmless wolf.

"Tonight's the full moon," Albus repeated. "And Professor Weasley is out of town again. I heard Mr. Malfoy tell my dad today at the seminar." He sat up quickly. "You realize what happened last time when Charlie left over a full moon, don't you?"

Brendan went pale. "No–no, he can't. Not again. Do you think we should tell someone? Is your dad still here?"

"He left," Albus answered. "Let's go tell Teddy."


	29. Year Three: Chapter Nine

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** All right... So this chapter is long overdue, and I apologize... I just had an onslaught of finals, and then I needed some time to recuperate... and then the holidays came. Quite the busy last few weeks. Again, sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy this chapter; two major ongoing plot elements are seemingly wrapped up. As for some questions asked... About Teddy's color-changing hair; I forgot about it while writing the first two years, but inserted a quick scene at Halloween in year 1 or 2 to compensate, deciding for the purpose of this story, he's modest and, unlike his mother, generally keeps his hair a normal brown. A bit of a cop-out, sorry. As for Hannah Abbott... She will be addressed--as to what that means, you'll have to wait and see. Actually, Parvati Patil was due to make an appearance in book 7, but I've recasted her with Hannah Abbott and tweaked the character a bit to better suit all this great new information JK Rowling is giving us. Anyway, enjoy!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pter Nine**_

There was no answer on the door to Teddy's office, so they ran up to the faculty common room–where Neville was just about to enter.

"We need to talk to Teddy," Albus said quickly. "Is he inside?"

"No," Neville replied. "He and Professor Delacour both went to the Three Broomsticks." With a grin, he added, "And when Teddy goes to the Three Broomsticks, he won't be in any state to talk when he comes back. You can see him tomorrow though."

"This is urgent!"

"You can tell me, then, Albus," Neville offered. He smiled. "I'm a professor too, you know."

"All right," Albus said. "We think Fenrir Greyback's in the Forbidden Forest."

"That's highly unlikely," Neville replied. "I was just in the Forest today, gathering Mandrake seeds–and I can assure you, there was nothing there. He hasn't been seen in months. They think he's abroad."

"I really think–"

"Albus," he said. "Listen to me. You'll only cause panic if you keep going on about this. He hasn't been seen in over a year, and Greyback isn't one to lay low if he's still in England. He's abroad. I'm sure of it." He looked at him a bit sternly. "What makes you say he's here, anyway?"

"Because Charlie–I mean, Professor Weasley–is out of town."

"Professor Weasley goes out of town a lot," Neville replied, "even over the full moon. And there haven't been any attacks yet."

Albus and Oliver both resisted the urge to look at Brendan.

"We're sure of it, sir," Oliver said quickly.

"There's no way," Neville answered. "I'll write Professor Weasley tonight, if you want. He'll be back in three days."

"That's too late!"

"It's the best I can do," Neville replied. "Now, if you excuse me, it's getting late." And he disappeared behind the gargoyle, into the common room.

"If Neville didn't believe us," Oliver said, "no one will. And Teddy, I'm sure, is sufficiently drunk by this point. Should we write your dad, Albus?"

"There isn't time," Albus answered. "The sun sets about an hour. By the time the letter gets there, Greyback will already have taken someone. Another werewolf–"

"I'm going," Brendan said. "I don't care. Two hours until I transform. I'm not going to let him get anyone else. I'm going to kill that sick son of a bitch tonight, if I have to die trying."

Oliver and Albus were dumbfounded by his bravado–but they were a little intrigued by it, all the same.

"If you go," Oliver said, "then I'm going to go too."

Albus sighed, looked at his two friends, then said, "I guess I'll go too."

* * *

"Luna!" Neville gasped, as he walked up the stairs to the faculty common room. "I didn't know you'd be here." 

"I am," she answered. "Sit down. Sit down next to me."

He did as he was told–and he couldn't help himself, as he stared at her. She looked especially beautiful in the dusky light that streamed through the window behind her; her blonde hair and her face looked alight–and she looked more gorgeous than he had ever seen her.

"What?" she grinned.

"What? Oh, nothing."

"You're staring."

"It's–you look good. Tonight, I mean."

She looked a bit surprised by this comment, but smiled and nodded at him. "Thank you. That's very sweet of you." She continued to look, as if waiting for him to say something else–but he didn't, so she went back to her book.

He sighed, sat down in the chair, and twiddled his thumbs for a bit. "There's more."

"More?" she asked, closing her book.

"I–I've had these feelings," he said. "About you."

"About me?"

"Yes," he said. "Over the past couple of years–hell, I think I'm falling in love with you, Luna."

She looked at him, her eyes suddenly becoming watery. "Neville!" she gasped. "I–I never knew."

They sat there, in silence, for what seemed like an eternity–and, with each passing second, Neville knew the chances got bleaker and bleaker. But he continued to smile, just in blind hope.

She finally opened her mouth to speak. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "But I don't–I don't feel the same way. I love you as a friend–but–" She paused, took a deep breath, then said, "But Rolf and I are going to be married."

The air whooshed out of Neville's lungs, and he stood there, his jaw dropped noticeably. "I–I–" he began. "Congratulations."

"Neville, I'm so sorry," she said. "You don't hate me, do you?"

"I could never hate you."

"Good," she replied. "Because you're such a good friend. I don't want to lose you."

"I–I don't want to lose you either. I don't want things to be awkward between us next year or anything–"

"That's another thing," she replied slowly. "I'm–I'm not coming back next year. Rolf is writing a new book and he's going to be in Sweden all year–and–and–I'm going with him."

"Oh. Well that sounds fun for you."

She leaned forward, kissed him on the cheek, and said, "I really am sorry, Neville. I wish things were different, but I really am in love with Rolf–and–I'm sorry, Neville."

"It's fun," he said. "Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

She sighed, looked at him–and then, she whispered some sort of farewell, and headed up the stairs, burying her face in her hands as she went. She felt awful, Neville thought–but he knew it was nothing compared to how he felt.

* * *

The Marauder's Map safely in hand, and crowded under the Invisibility Cloak, Albus, Oliver, and Brendan all slowly made their way across the grounds. Greyback wasn't on the map–but Albus knew that didn't mean he wasn't in the forest, a bit further off the map, lurking for his opportunity to strike. He checked his watch. Sunset was in a half hour, and then the moon would be rising. He picked up the pace a little more. 

They came to the fringe of the forest and walked through the underbrush a bit–but there was absolutely no noise. Dead silence. It was eerie–but Albus felt all right, wedged neatly between his two best friends, as they walked.

And then, Oliver tripped over a root–and the cloak came sliding down. Before they could get a chance to hitch it back up, they heard a distinct yell–"Sectumsempra!" from further into the forest–and Oliver fell to the ground, clutching his chest, which had a large bloody cut slashed across it.

"Help me," he whispered, as he crumpled himself up into a ball. Albus and Brendan stood there, wands out.

"Who's there?" Brendan shrieked.

And, out from behind the tree, came Scorpius Malfoy.

"Scorpius!" Albus hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The color in Scorpius's face drained–and Albus suddenly knew why. He heard Draco's voice inside his head– "_I have never been so disappointed in you. If you're going to be a Slytherin, you better do a damned better job of beating him. And I hear he fought Greyback last year._" And he knew why Scorpius was here.

"I'm here for Greyback," Scorpius said, nearly inaudibly. "I know he's here."

"How?" Brendan demanded.

"I saw Albus's memory during the seminar," he replied. "And–and I put the pieces together. I saw the memory of Greyback chasing Finnigan last year, that weekend when Professor Weasley wasn't here–and Finnigan, there, hasn't been right since about that time, and he's disappeared every full moon we've had so far this year. And Greyback's back–because Professor Weasley's gone again, and it's another full moon, and I saw you outside the faculty common room!" He pointed at Brendan. "And he's a werewolf."

Brendan went pale, even paler than Scorpius. "No!" he shrieked. "I'm not."

"I won't tell anyone," Scorpius said. "I promise."

Brendan looked a little uncomfortable, but seemed to generally take his word, affirmed with only a slight bob of the head.

"But what do we do about Oliver now?" Albus asked. "One of us has to take him back."

"Make Finnigan do it," Scorpius said. "If he transforms while we're out here–"

"I'll be harmless," he promised. "I've been taking–" He stopped. "Holy crap, Albus, I forgot to take my Wolfsbane Potion tonight."

"Take Oliver!" Albus hissed. "Get back to the castle as quick as you can–and Teddy left the potion for you in Gryffindor tower; I saw it there. I can't believe I forgot to make sure you took it–" He stopped; Brendan only had an hour, and had already slung Oliver over his shoulder–a difficult feat, considering Oliver was a bit bigger than him–and had taken off back the way they came.

"Just us, Potter," Scorpius said. "Don't go crying for Daddy when mean old Greyback comes around."

"I've fought him once," Albus replied, "and I can do it again." But he had to admit–he was a bit scared this time around. Last time, he had been with Oliver, and they were both a little blinded by the urgency to save Brendan. But this time, he was with Scorpius–and they were saving some faceless student that Greyback hadn't yet attacked. But, still; he had to admit it was better than nothing.

There was a rustling in the trees, and they saw the shadow of a man–and they both ran towards him–it was Greyback. before either of them could do anything. Both Albus and Scorpius pointed there wands, and Greyback, skidding to a stop, stared at them, hoarsely croaked, "Don't! No! You don't know what you're doing!"

But, in unison, the boys shrieked, "Stupefy!" And the werewolf fell down to the ground, smashing the small glass flask he held in his hand.

"We did it!" Scorpius gasped. "Albus, can you believe this?"

"Let's get him back to the castle."

"Are you mad? We only have fifteen minutes until the sun sets–and stunning charms don't work on werewolves."

Albus had to admit that was true; they had found that out last year, when they attempted to stun a transformed Greyback, as he chased Brendan through the forest. He only glared at Scorpius.

"What do you suppose we do, then?"

There was a long pause. "We're going to have to kill him right here. Right now." He sighed. "You do it. You have the grudge."

"Brendan should be doing it, really," Albus replied.

"He's not here," Scorpius answered. "Do it, Albus. Do it quick."

Albus raised his wand, held it there for a moment. Killing? An Unforgivable Curse–no, he couldn't do it; not when his dad had spent so much of his adult life fighting against these type of atrocities. Still, Greyback was a fugitive–a highly dangerous fugitive, who would be transformed in about ten minutes, and then he would have no qualms about ripping Scorpius and himself apart at the drop of a hat. It had to be done–but–

"I can't," Albus whispered. "Scorpius–"

"Fine," Scorpius said. He took a deep breath, and waited a second, and Albus figured the same thoughts were going through his head. They shared a brief second of knowing eye-contact, and Albus knew they were on the same page. Neither of them were killers; as much as Scorpius was his rival, as much as he came from the hated Malfoy family, as much as he would have loved to continue hating Scorpius Malfoy–he knew that, deep down, they weren't so different after all.

But Scorpius looked at his watch–and then he knew it had to be done. He looked back to Albus, then whispered, "Together?"

Albus sighed–then shook his head.

Scorpius, looking a bit crushed by the response, as if it had just condemned him to some horrible fate, pursed his lips with new resolve, then screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light–and Greyback's stunned body became unmistakably dead.


	30. Year Three: Chapter Ten

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2019 to June 2020  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** And this concludes Year Three. Year Four, Chapter One, will follow. This chapter is rather short, but it essentially becomes the setup for Year Four, so enjoy! And, as with the end of any year, leave reviews and let me know what you thought of the whole thing so far, and what you'd like to see next. On a side note, finally added Albus and Teddy as characters, so now if you search for them, you could conceivably see this story. Of course, if you're reading this, you've already found this story, so that just becomes moot... But it's a nice thought.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Three  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r Ten**_

Everything from that point on was a blur. Somehow, Scorpius and Albus managed to carry Greyback's body, transfigured into a small bone—more manageable—back to Hogwarts–where they were greeted by a shocked Neville, apologizing profusely and, moments later, by Charlie, who declared that they would both be awarded a Special Award for Services to the School. There was much talk around the hallways after that–everyone knew that they had defeated Greyback, and carried his dead body back to the grounds–but no one quite knew what happened after that. Scorpius seemed to relish the attention, the throngs of students crowded around him, asking for him to recount the wondrous tale, hanging on his every word–but Albus wasn't as big of a fan. In fact, he started avoiding the Great Hall at mealtimes, walking quickly through the corridors, hanging out often in his room, just surrounded by his four good friends.

But he didn't have to do that for too long; summer was rearing its warm head, and before anyone knew it, the term was already over.

Rose, Brendan, and Katie had already taken one of the thestral carriages down to Hogsmeade Station, but Oliver and Albus hung back a little; Albus still didn't want to attract a lot of attention. It wasn't even until five minutes before the train left that the two of them started running to catch one of the last carriages.

They waited for the crowd to thin a bit, then hoisted their trunks into the last carriage–occupied by Scorpius, who sat on one of the seats reading _Where Doxies Go, Trouble Follows_. He only looked up at them as they stumbled up into the carriage.

"Hello," he said coolly.

"You're alone?" Albus asked. "Never would have guessed."

Scorpius glared at him a bit–but then just shrugged. "I had a good book," he replied. "And it gets old sometimes."

The carriage started moving–until it was interrupted but a screeching, "Wait!" as James Potter ran out of the castle, his giant trunk hitched on his back, as he came running towards them like a pack mule.

He threw the trunk into the carriage, crushing Albus's feet a bit, and then hoisted himself up onto the moving carriage.

"Just made it!" he said, taking the seat next to Scorpius. "I left my wand in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

"What were you doing in there?" Albus asked.

"Oh," he said, turning a bit red. "Nothing." He turned to Scorpius. "Funny seeing you here, Malfoy. I thought you hated my brother. I guess you can't defeat a werewolf with someone and still dislike them afterwards." James grinned a bit. "I think it was pretty awesome," he said quietly. He caught his brother's eye, then kicked up his feet onto the seat between Oliver and Albus. He prodded Albus with his feet. "Hear that, Potter? I think what you did is pretty damn cool. I don't think I could've done it." He dropped his voice a bit. "Say–how did you kill him, anyway? No one would tell us."

Scorpius and Albus simultaneously turned red–but for very different reasons. No one would fault Scorpius for using an Unforgivable Curse in this particular situation–but it couldn't look good that he knew how to do it, especially after his father had spent years trying to separate the Malfoy name from the reputation of Dark magic. Albus, of course, would never admit this–not to anyone–but still felt terrible that he couldn't raise his wand to kill even a criminal like Greyback. Had it been only him, Greyback probably would have broken free–found an innocent student, taken them into the forest. No. He was no hero, and the fact that everyone thought he was great and brave made it all the more humiliating.

"It's–complicated," Scorpius said slowly. "Don't you think, Albus?"

"Way too complicated," he agreed.

James looked a bit disappointed–but the carriage came to a stop, and he saw Edgecombe and Ogden standing there next to the train, waving him over, so it was all soon forgotten, as he jumped out and ran over to his friends. Oliver jumped off the carriage, too, but Albus quickly waved him away, telling him that he'd catch up. Oliver shrugged, went off to find the rest.

"Go on," Scorpius said, as the two of them stepped off the carriage. "Everyone's probably waiting for you."

"Or you, too," Albus replied. "Don't you have a bunch of people that can be hanging on you?"

"I told you," Scorpius answered. "It gets old sometimes. Everyone enjoys me if I have a good story." He shrugged. "It's okay. I'm plenty used to it."

"We're okay though, right?" Albus asked tentatively, extending his hand out.

Scorpius grinned a bit, shook it, and said, "Yeah. We're okay."

* * *

The train pulled to a stop a while later, and Teddy was one of the first people off, spotting Victoire right away. He dropped his trunk down next to Harry and, without even saying hello, ran over to Victoire. 

He wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up to his face level, and kissed her softly on the mouth. "I have missed you so much," he whispered.

She looked at him, somewhat forlornly, but said nothing–so he kept talking.

"I was thinking," he said softly, setting her back down, "that we could go away for a bit, you know? Maybe Majorca, or Barcelona, or Crete? Crete would be fun. I've never been there—"

"Teddy," she said slowly. "I–I met someone."

His mouth opened a bit, but he continued to smile, albeit a twisted, grotesque sort of smile."I–what?"

"I haven't seen you in a year," she said slowly, "and what happens when we do get married, and you go back to Hogwarts? I'm supposed to sit home alone, wait for a whole year until I see my husband again?"

"But we're in love," he said. "And love conquers everything. As long as we have love, who cares about the rest?"

"I do," she replied. "I do. I'm sorry, Teddy."

"You–you don't have faith in us?"

"I guess I don't," she said quietly. "I do love you, Teddy. I just don't want to be with you anymore. I want to be with someone who can be with me, whenever I want. I don't want to see you only on school holidays." She looked at him, then closed her eyes, and said, "I'm so sorry, Teddy. This is really hard for me to do."

"Can't be that hard," he spat. "Can't be that hard at all, if you're doing it, don't you think?"

"Teddy!" he gasped. "You make me seem like the villain here."

"You are."

"No I'm not! I–I just can't do long distance anymore. I'm sorry. This isn't how I thought it would end. I didn't think it would ever end."

"Well it did," he replied. "Just get the hell away from me."

She looked at him for a second, then slowly walked away, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she went to rejoin her aunts and uncles, who stood across the platform, greeting Albus, Rose, James, and Lily.

Gabrielle appeared over Teddy's shoulder, then looked a bit surprised when she saw his teary-eyed face. "Are you okay? What the hell happened?"

"It's over," he said slowly. "With me and Victoire." He suddenly stopped. "Is–is this what you felt like when I–I–you know?"

"You get over it."

"I–I never could forgive myself if I made you feel like this."

"Don't worry. After a few months, you just forget about the whole thing."

He bit his lip for a second, looked out of the corner of his eye–Victoire was watching–then back at her. They exchanged a pair of knowing smiles, then he whispered, "I really hope you don't forget this."

And he kissed her.


	31. Year Four: Chapter One

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** Here it is: the start of Year Four. I apologize for the lateness again. I was innocently penning the opening chapters to Year Five (I like to stay a bit ahead of you) when my computer suddenly blue-screened and Word then refused to open the manuscript for this entire fic. Luckily, I had a backup of the first three years, and I could get Year Four and Five open with Notepad, but being Notepad, all the formatting was lost. So it's been a bit of an odyssey to redo the formatting--i.e. indenting every paragraph--over the twenty or so pages I've written of Year Four and Five--which is why this chapter was so late. Plus, I've been obsessively following the Presidential primaries--I'm a politics junkie, not going to lie--and I've been focusing more and more on an original novel, _Love, American Style_, which has kept me awake until 5am for the last week and a half and, as such, has cut into free-time rather drastically. Not to shamelessly plug my own work or anything--well, maybe a bit--but the first chapter of that is up on FictionPress. The link is on my profile, but it won't let me type it here. Hope you'll check it out. I'll be posting a few of the opening chapters there to get a feel for an audience, possibly some critique, etc. At any rate, here is Year Four--a year which, like in the original series, will hold many changes for the characters. I hope you enjoy it.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r One  
**_

The Wood family lived on a large country estate several miles outside of Dorchester. Albus watched with awe, as they drove Mr. Wood's clangy antique Muggle car down the lengthy cobblestone drive–several furloughs long itself–and pulled up to the house. It was a rather elegant-though a bit haunting–two story Tudor, its stony walls covered with moss. Truly a grand house–grander than even the Potter's comfortable townhouse on Grimmauld Place–but with a certain air of neglect. Albus guessed that the Woods didn't come home very often.

A small house elf named Spunky, young and a bit nervous, bowed deeply to Albus as he came in, then hitched his large trunk on his tiny green back, and stumbled up the staircase, falling several times. Albus looked to the Woods tentatively, to see if he should do anything to help the poor elf, but they were still deep in conversation about Quidditch.

Mr. Wood suddenly noticed Albus was staring, a smiled a bit. "Oliver, perhaps you'd like to show Albus to his room?"

"All right," Oliver answered. They lingered for a second, as Mr. Wood opened up the Daily Prophet, flipping right to the Quidditch section, passing right by the front-page news, a long-winded featurette on Audrey Weasley, Percy's wife, who had given an equally long-winded speech about how her husband's noble efforts paid off on the search for Greyback. Albus craned his neck a bit to read it, but Mr. Wood quickly folded the page over—and then Albus noticed Oliver had already, without another word, begun to follow the house elf upstairs. Albus quickly followed him.

Oliver opened the third door down the long, winding upstairs corridor. The room was comfortable–a large four poster in the middle, a big antique armoire at one end, and very dusty drapes over the window. The whole room was a bit dusty.

"We don't go in here very often," Oliver explained, as he ran his finger along the dusty nightstand. "I'll have Spunky clean it up if you want." He called for the elf, who apparated in, apologizing profusely for all the dust, and then the two boys went across the hall to Oliver's room.

Oliver's room was everything Albus expected, to be quite honest. It was big, with a peaked ceiling that seemed to be right under the roof, and covered from floor to ceiling with Quidditch posters, in particular Puddlemere United; hell, even his antique four poster bed had a large Puddlemere United bedspread and matching bed drapes. It was very fitting–very fitting.

Oliver sat down on the davenport at the foot of his bed, then leaned back, pushing off a Puddlemere United pillow.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Beautiful house," Albus answered.

"And of my dad?"

Albus didn't say anything at first. Mr. Wood's conversation skills seemed to be entirely limited to Quidditch–which team was leading the division, Puddlemere's chances for the England Cup, and who exactly on the England National Team needed to be booted down to reserve—"Cadwallader might be a legend, Potter, but he's just not making the cut anymore."

"I know," Oliver said quickly, without waiting too long for a response. "It's all Quidditch. But I'm used to that. Ever since Mum died–" He turned a bit pink, then leaned back a little again. Forcing a smile on his face, he said, "I'm sure glad you're here, Albus. This summer's been terrible."

"Really?"

"My dad's been home," he said. "And I know that's what I wanted–but, hell, Albus, he's driving me crazy. I feel like I'm in some Quidditch boot camp all the time. He keeps going on about how proud of me he'd be if I made Quidditch captain next year."

"Two years," Albus answered. "James is a sixth year."

"Two years," he repeated. "And I told him I wasn't sure if I would be captain–and so he's been making me practice with him every day." He stiffened. "That's why I'm glad you're here—hey, maybe everyone else could come by, too. Just for the day tomorrow. What do you think?"

Albus shook his head. "They're all busy; Rose is in France with the Grangers, and Brendan—well, it's the full moon. And Katie has her dad's funeral tomorrow." He looked up at Albus. "He died last week."

He suddenly didn't want to have this conversation, but luckily there was a tap on the window–and Albus nearly jumped when he saw Mr. Wood hovering next to the closed window, waving for them to come out. He mouthed, "Time for Quidditch practice!" and then flew away. Albus and Oliver did as they were told, and ran downstairs.

Two brooms lied on the edge of the patio–Oliver's Silver Ghost and the new Nimbus Phantom. Mr. Wood hovered there, smiling.

"I don't know what you ride," he said to Albus, "but your dad rode a Nimbus, so I figured like father, like son." He gave a hearty laugh, and pointed to the broomstick. "It just came out last month, too. I just had to pick it up."

"Dad's a collector," Oliver explained.

"That's right," Mr. Wood said. "I just restored a 1906 Moontrimmer–the first racing broom. It took me six months to find all the original twigs." He descended a bit–and Albus couldn't help but watch in awe. Mr. Wood was such a talent on a broomstick; it seemed to know what he was going to do before he did it, working automatically without even his touch. He understood why Mr. Wood had been voted Which Broomstick's Best Quidditch Player for the last six seasons.

"I was thinking you could play Chaser with Oliver," Mr. Wood said. "He needs all the practice he can get if he wants Gryffindor to win the cup his year."

Oliver turned red, but said nothing; he simply picked up his Silver Ghost, mounted it, then mouthed to Albus, "Just do it!" and pointed to the Nimbus.

Albus stood there for a second. You just killed Fenrir Greyback, he told himself. You just got a Special Award for Services to the School two months ago. Your roommate is a werewolf. This? This is just a broomstick. You've been in more dangerous situations than this. You're a Gryffindor. Be brave. Be brave.

He gritted his teeth, grabbed the handle, mounted it and kicked off.

Huh. That was interesting. He had never flown like this before. Well, he had never flown at all before. But this–well, this was quite nice. He hovered a bit, even lifted one hand off the broomstick handle, and then looked to Oliver with a big smile on his face. Oliver smiled back, mouthed, "I told you," then flew off after his dad.

Albus would have followed–except he didn't know how to move. He hovered there, motionless. He looked down at it, studied it for a minute, then whispered, "Giddy up." Nothing. He leaned forward–and the broom shot off behind the Woods. He would have screamed; he was moving quickly, after all–but he didn't. Dare he say–he liked it. The wind whipped through his messy black hair, his robes–and he liked it!

He caught up to the Woods, who were already down the hill on Mr. Wood's large Quidditch pitch–a half-court field with one set of golden rings, which Mr. Wood already hovered near. Oliver already had a Quaffle in his hand, was juggling it in one hand, and then tossed it to Albus, calling, "Look sharp!"

Albus looked up, raised his left hand, and caught it–leaving Oliver and Mr. Wood looking a bit surprised.

"Left handed," Mr. Wood said. "Nice catch, Albus." He flew down in front of the goal. "You get the first shot then."

Albus didn't quite know what to do. Mr. Wood was hovering in front of the middle ring–so he pretended to throw it to the right, but threw it to the left–and the Quaffle sailed past Mr. Wood's outstretched fingertips, into the ring.

The rest of the day was just as pleasant. Albus made almost as many shots as Oliver–and Mr. Wood seemed very impressed with both of them, but especially Albus, whose skill he attributed to good genetics–his mum and dad–and good coaching–Mr. Wood himself, of course. Albus was flattered, when Mr. Wood spent the entire dinner that night trying to convince him to tryout for the Gryffindor team–but Albus felt a little guilty when he saw Oliver, glumly sitting there, stirring up his mashed potatoes and gravy until they were a pureed gray lump.

Mr. Wood, after dinner, had to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where he was due to autograph photos with the rest of Puddlemere United, leaving Oliver and Albus upstairs.

Oliver seemed to sulk the entire night–and Albus noticed that there seemed to be a few less Quidditch posters on the walls. Or perhaps that was just his imagination.

"You did good today," he said finally. "Dad reckons you're a real natural at Quidditch. He couldn't believe you'd never played before."

"It's nothing," he said.

"No, it's something," Oliver replied. "He couldn't stop talking about it."

"You did better than I did."

"I've been playing a lot longer. And he expects it from me." He gave a short, cold, ironic laugh. "I think he'll want to live vicariously through you, next."

* * *

Teddy's room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was dark–as it had been for much of the summer, with the curtains drawn that not even a speck of light had a chance to get inside. 

The room, too, itself was a mess. Robes littered the floor, Teddy's large trunk of Defense Against the Dark Arts books was empty–its contents scattered upon every table–and the remnants of a month's worth of meals could be found anywhere. Kreacher hadn't been inside in at least four weeks–come to think of it, neither had any of the Potters–as Teddy preferred to be alone by this point.

He had been okay for the first week or so of the summer. He had had Gabrielle–damn it, he thought, as her face came to his mind. Why did he have to do that? He had been humiliated, embarrassed, devastated–right there on platform nine and three-quarters–and Victoire was watching. What else could he do, but kiss Gabrielle? And go home with her. And have sex with her. Twice. That was stupid, he reasoned. It wasn't right to toy with Gabrielle's feelings like that. She had loved him–hell, she might have been the first to ever love him–and he had used her in the worst way ever–to make Victoire jealous. And now, where was he? He couldn't speak to his two best friends; Gabrielle probably hated him, and how could he even expect Neville to take his side, after what he did to Gabrielle? No. He was alone.

He hiccupped a bit, set down his firewhisky–which, due to the lack of clean cups in the room, he had taken to drinking straight out of the handle–and peered blurrily at the picture of him and Victoire across the room, smiling, hugging, kissing. It was over now. Victoire hadn't been kidding; she had met someone in Paris, and they moved in together almost as soon as she broke up with Teddy. Now Victoire and Louis were living in a chic little apartment in Paris, talking about getting married someday, and Teddy was alone.

Not alone, he thought a bit, a small ironic smile coming to his face. "I still have you," he said fondly, as he picked up the handle of firewhisky. "Never steered–stirred–steered?–me wrong yet, have you?" He took a hearty swig, then set it down again.

There was a stern knock on the door–and, like clockwork, he cast a feeble disillusionment charm on the firewhisky handle, then set it underneath the bed. And, trying not to stumble too much, he wandered over to the door, unbolted the lock, and opened it a crack.

"I was sleeping," he said.

Harry didn't say anything; he just pushed the door open. Teddy didn't fight him; he had neither the strength nor the interest.

Now, Harry wasn't stupid. He could see the disheveled state of both the room–covered with filth–and of his godson–with scraggly hair and a stubbly beard–and he could, of course, smell the lingering stench of drink. But he didn't say anything. A scolding is not what Teddy needed at this point.

"Charlie came by," he said coolly. "He wanted to know how you were feeling. I told him you were asleep."

Teddy's eyes stayed out of focus, in a bit of a daze, and he only nodded. "Thanks. Thanks, that was the right thing to say."

"He wanted to know if you planned on coming back to Hogwarts," he continued. "We were all wondering, actually."

"Of course I am," Teddy replied slowly. "What else do I have to do, you know? Without Hogwarts, I'm completely pathetic. And unemployed. And pathetic." He grinned a bit lopsidedly. "I said that already."

"You did," Harry agreed. "Funny story, though. I offered Charlie a glass of firewhisky when he came by–and I couldn't find any of it. I had a cellar full of it. But it's empty." He paused for a bit. "You don't have any idea of where it went, do you?"

"Haven't the foggiest," he said. He let out a hiccup. "I have to return to my bottle of–er–my nap." He began to close the door, but Harry stuck his foot in the way.

"Far be it from me to dispense advice," he said, "but I feel like I should remind you that your dad was an alcoholic–and, I believe, all descendents of his should exercise–er–precaution when–"

"Don't be a fortune cookie," Teddy snapped. "I know bloody well what my father was, thank you. He was a fucking half-breed who tried to leave his family–"

"Do not talk about Remus Lupin like that," Harry growled. "He was a good man. He wasn't perfect, but he was a good man. You should consider yourself lucky that he's your father."

"He was a scoundrel," Teddy replied. "You want me to consider myself lucky, that my dad through away his life so that he could have an adventure? He was a werewolf. Thought I'd be better off without him, did he? He was right about that. I probably am."

"He came back, didn't he? He died so you could have a better life. And what are you doing? You're drinking it away."

"You don't–you can't even imagine–"

"All I see is some spoiled little brat. Your girlfriend dumped you. The world doesn't end. Damn it, Teddy, if you even knew half of the hardships that your dad, or your mum, or I, or your grandparents, had been through, you'd find your situation laughable."

Teddy stood there for a second, then took a step back and looked at Harry for a moment as if to say something–but he instead frowned bitterly, raised his right hand, and slammed the door with as much force as he could muster.


	32. Year Four: Chapter Two

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** Sorry; I forgot to add the section breaks in the first release of this chapter. It's been fixed. Sorry! As for typos, I'm again sorry if there's a lot--I just don't have time to proofread fan fiction; everything I publish on here is rough and hot off the press, but again I apologize!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r Two  
**_

Ginny Potter was a bit troubled by two things: one, that her husband had not spoken to his godson in well over a week–quite the rarity, as far as Harry and Teddy were concerned; and two, that she had still not seen Albus come onto the platform. 

She looked nervously at her watch. Five minutes until eleven. James and Lily were already on the train, as were Rose and her very nervous-looking incoming first year brother, Hugo. Harry hadn't even come at all yet; he had an urgent meeting with Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley, to discuss his reappointment to the Department of Aurors at the Ministry. Public outcry for the return of the lauded Dark wizard defeater had reached an all-time high, especially after Albus Potter defeated Fenrir Greyback, and Percy feared for his electability at the next election–so he was bringing back Harry and Hermione from the doldrums of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Department of Magical Transportation, respectively. And everyone–except Percy, that is–was quite pleased about the whole situation.

Ginny watched the sea of passersby, scouting for her son, when she was suddenly grabbed from behind by her grinning husband, who kissed her, and then said, "Got my job back."

"We all knew you would," she said. "Percy was getting a hundred hexes a day mailed to him. What could he do?"

Harry wasn't listening; he had focused on a rather nervous-looking dad, who seemed to be cowering despite his large, muscular frame, and was dressed from head to toe in Muggle clothing. He had his large hand on the shoulder of his son, a chubby but wide-eyed second year already excitably dressed in his Hogwarts robes, who looked more excited about being with his new owl than being with his dad.

He didn't say anything to Ginny, who was still talking, as he walked over towards this Muggle man–but, as he approached, and they locked eyes, Harry was the first one to speak. "Dudders–I mean, Dudley?"

"Harry!" he exclaimed. "I knew I'd run into you eventually; my son told me he's in your daughter's class in–in, what did you say your house was, Evan?"

"Gryffindor," his son replied lazily, as he continued to stroke the slightly ruffled feathers of his snowy owl.

"It's the best one," Dudley quickly added–as if Harry didn't know.

"The stinksap doesn't fall far from the Mimbulus mimbletonia, I suppose," Harry replied. At Dudley's bewildered expression, he quickly said, "The apple–from the–from the tree–you understand." He cleared his throat. "I only meant that the whole family has been in Gryffindor."

Dudley looked a bit shocked for a second, and Evan's concentration on the owl was finally broken. "We're related to Harry Potter?" he gasped. "That is so cool!"

"We're cousins," Dudley said quietly. "You get your magic from the Evans side–the side you were named after." He grinned at Harry a bit proudly. "I could always tell there was something different about him."

"Is he your only one?"

"Yes, just one boy," Dudley said. "Just like I was raised–oh. I didn't mean–"

"I never thought of myself as a second son."

"And you have–just a daughter?"

"She's my youngest," Harry replied. "Two older sons." He saw Ginny wandering over. "And you've met my wife, Ginny, haven't you? No. I don't think you have. Her brothers and her dad you met, years ago. Ginny–my cousin, Dudley Dursley, and his son, Evan."

Ginny threw Harry a bewildered look, but then smiled back at Dudley. "Ginny Potter."

"The Quidditch correspondent," Evan said to his dad. To Ginny, he added, "I read your column every week."

Dudley turned a bit red, looking a bit lost in the conversation. "I really should be going," he said suddenly. "I've–I've places to be. But it was good seeing you again, Harry. How long has it been–twenty, twenty-five years?"

"Something like that," Harry replied. "I'll see you around."

* * *

Albus had, somehow, found his way onto the train just as it was pulling away–and he had, in the shuffle, become separated from Oliver. He took to searching the filled compartments for any sight of his friends–but he couldn't find them. 

He pulled open one compartment–and, in there, was Scorpius Malfoy, his third-year sister Cassiopeia, and two other guys dressed in Slytherin robes.

"Sorry," Albus said quickly, as he began to close the door. "I was just looking for–"

"Sit down for a second, Al, would you?" Scorpius said, moving his feet down off the seat across from him. "Some people here I want you to meet."

Albus looked down the corridor quickly–but didn't see anyone, so he shrugged and stepped inside the compartment, closing the door on his way inside.

"You know everyone, Al?" When he shook his head, Scorpius said, "Well, this is Ben Avery on the right, and George Nott over on the left. And my sister, Cassie, of course."

Cassie smiled at Albus. He scarcely recognized her; she had clearly outgrown that awkward phase that every girl goes through, and he couldn't but help notice she was very pretty, with long, curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a pale but excitable narrow face. He grinned back at her–a bit stupidly, he was afraid.

"Everyone," Scorpius continued, "this is my friend Albus Potter."

"Potter," Nott repeated. "My dad's an Auror too."

"I didn't know you had Gryffindor friends," Avery added.

"He's a recent acquisition," Scorpius replied lazily, "when both of us defeated Greyback, you know. It doesn't hurt to have a Gryffindor there. Supposed to be brave and all."

Albus thought, for a second, that Scorpius was suddenly making fun of him–but then he realized that he wasn't, so he just continued to smile, and nodded a bit. "We're a good lot to have around," he replied. "Hey, Scorpius, you haven't seen Oliver around anywhere, have you?"

"Wood?" he asked. "Not since last term." He grinned. "Wood's going to have some fun this year against the Slytherin team. I've been practicing with my dad–and I'm going to be a chaser."

"You know already?"

"Not really," he said. "But I'm really good, and Dad promised to get me and my six closest friends all Nimbus Phantoms." With a bit of a sly grin and a wink, he added, "It's up to Mulciber–he's the captain–to decide whether he wants to be one of them." Upon seeing Albus's reaction, he quickly said, "It's not a bribe, you know. I could make the team all on my own." He leaned back. "But when your dad is the richest wizard in Britain, why not reap the benefits?"

"I suppose," Albus replied. "Oliver's dad reckons I should try out for the Quidditch team this year too." He grinned. "Chaser."

Quite seriously, Scorpius replied, "You should. Wood's going to need all the help he can get."

The compartment door swung open, and Oliver stood there. "Heard my name," he said gruffly. "Oh–Albus. I thought you would be meeting the rest of us."

"I couldn't find you," he replied–though this seemed an insufficient explanation now. "I just stopped here for a chat."

Oliver didn't move. "Well, are you coming? Edgecombe thinks he saw Brendan, Rose, and Katie up in the front of the train."

"Stay here a bit," Scorpius interrupted, before Albus could say anything. "Come on, Wood." With a grin, he said, "I nicked a bottle of firewhisky from my dad's cabinet."

Oliver raised his eyebrows a bit, shrugged, and then sat down next to Albus. "You got firewhisky?"

"That's what he gets for making the password 'pure-blood,'" Scorpius answered. "I guessed it on my second try." He rummaged in his book bag, pulled out a half-empty bottle, and then slid the compartment door open a bit. No one in the hallway. "Good," he said. "We're not allowed to have this. We'd get detentions until Christmas at least." He grinned even wider, as if the prospect of doing something dangerous seemed to make it even more appealing. He waved his wand, and five cups appeared in midair. "A cup for everyone?"

"There's only five," Avery said. "There's six of us."

Scorpius looked at Cassie apologetically, but she shrugged. "I don't drink anyway," she said, as she stood up. "I'm going t find Michelle. I told her I'd meet her."

Everyone muttered goodbye, then sat in silence until she was out of the compartment completely.

"Just five then," Scorpius said. "I don't like Cassie to do anything bad. She's a good girl, you know, and I'm going to keep her that way even if it kills her." He uncorked the bottle, poured the contents into the cups. "What's wrong, Potter? You look like you swallowed bubotuber pus."

"I've never drank before," Albus answered. "Except butterbeer."

"Try it," Scorpius said. "You'll like it." He grabbed a cup from midair, and stuck it right in front of Albus's nose. Albus wasn't a fan of the overwhelming stench–which reminded him vividly of the hallway outside Teddy's bedroom towards the end of summer–but he begrudgingly took the cup and, took a small sip. It wasn't terrible, he thought, and, seeing everyone else take hearty drinks from their cup, took another sip.

* * *

"He's at the Three Broomsticks again?" Gabrielle gasped exasperatedly. "The students will be here in an hour, Neville. What the hell got into him?" 

"He's been drinking a lot lately," Neville replied. "It's unsettling, isn't it?"

"Especially because of his dad," Gabrielle said. "Alcoholic."

"I haven't talked to him in a couple weeks," he replied. "He doesn't seem good, does he? Have you talked to him?"

"We're not on speaking terms," she said coldly, trying to force back the hot tears that suddenly stung her beautiful blue eyes. "After what he did to me?"

"Understandable," Neville said. "But he's your friend, Gabrielle–remember?"

"He's no friend of me. And besides, what goes on between Lupin and I is none of your business. If you do happen to see him, however, please tell him that he's a big—"

"Another year as the middleman," he sighed. "It's okay. I should be used to it, now, shouldn't I?"

"Well, if he doesn't get his little drinking habit under wraps, this could be your last year as a middleman," she said. "If you catch my drift."

"He won't be fired," Neville replied. "He won't." He sighed a bit. "I should go get him, shouldn't I?"

Gabrielle nodded, and Neville nodded back at her in agreement, and then left the castle, and ran down the lane to Hogsmeade, then even faster down High Street, until he came inside the Three Broomsticks.

Of course, Teddy was sitting there, his head in his hands, a sea of empty cups around him.

"Neville!" he exclaimed. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine," he said coldly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"All right," he replied. "Bartender–a firewhisky for old Mr. Professor Longbottom here." He pointed haphazardly at Neville, then put his head back on his elevated fist.

"We have the start-of-term banquet today," he said. "In about an hour–no, bartender, I don't want one."

"That's only an hour away?" he gasped. "Holy mother of shit–but there's so many firewhiskies still to drink!"

"I think you've had enough," Neville answered plainly. "Let's go."


	33. Year Four: Chapter Three

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** This chapter is rather short. I'm sorry. Coming chapters will be longer. This year is just about to get interesting, mark my words.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pter Three**_

Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins. It's funny, Albus thought, how his favorite class had become his least favorite over the first few weeks of the term. Not because it was with the Slytherins–no, not at all. In fact, Albus quite enjoyed their company now–he had misjudged Scorpius, he decided, and he figured Scorpius felt the same way, too.

No, Albus hated Defense Against the Dark Arts now because of Teddy. The young professor had once been a sort of revival of his father–very hands-on, very involved in the lives of his students. But, in the last few weeks, he had been neither. His lectures were dull, poorly planned, and followed no sense of pattern. He just sat there, huddled in an old gray cloak that had been his dad's, drinking out of a hip flask, and talking monotonously about whatever topic came to his mind. Even Albus stopped taking notes long ago.

But he felt bad for Teddy–really bad. He had never seen him like this, and he wanted to talk to him–but he could never find a good moment. Teddy would always pretend not to hear him, and walk quickly out of the room, then go barricade himself upstairs in his bedroom or in the Three Broomsticks. He had become very pale, had a lingering stench of firewhisky gravitating from him at any given time, and talked to no one. Part of Albus thought he should tell his dad–but Harry would probably tell Charlie, and then Teddy's job could be in jeopardy. And Albus didn't want that. He had already cost Katie's dad his soul, and he couldn't bring himself to destroy another person's life.

"How much time left?" Rose whispered.

"Three minutes," Katie whispered back. "Start packing up. I don't want to be in here any longer than we have to."

They both began putting books in their bags and, the rest of the class, which had long since grown accustomed to Katie's commendable time-telling, followed suit. Teddy continued to talk, though his eyes glanced once at the lot of them as they began to pack up. He let out a sigh, paused his lecture for a moment, and took a long sip from his hip flask. "I—I suppose you can all go now," he said suddenly.

No one wasted any time; scarcely fifteen seconds had passed, and the room had emptied. Teddy tightened his cloak, and stumbled out the door—right into Neville.

"Oh my God," Neville hissed. "Are you drunk right now, Teddy?"

"No."

"You are so—damn it, what are you trying to pull, anyway?"

"I—I don't know. Why don't you go back to your family? Oh no, wait—you don't have anyone."

Neville's hand sprang upwards, his wand jutting into Teddy's jaw.

"You wouldn't," Teddy said slowly. "You wouldn't. I—I'm one of your best friends, you know?"

"Well start acting like one," he replied coldly. "You're drunk—you taught class drunk. Teddy, haven't you heard what everyone's saying about you?"

He thought for a moment. "No."

"They're saying you've lost it—really lost it. And I can't say I disagree." He sighed. "Gabrielle and I—we're really worried about you."

"Like hell Gabrielle is," Teddy said. "You remember what I did to her? She hasn't even spoken to me since—and I'm not going to believe that she's so worried about me."

"Well, I'm worried," he replied. "I'm worried—isn't that enough?"

"I hurt her, didn't I?"

Neville sighed. "You did. But she's a big girl. She'll get over it. You think that she's going to spend the rest of her life wallowing away in grief? Well, she won't. So just forget about it. Forget about her, and just—just live your life, would you?"

Teddy said nothing; he only looked down at the floor—then waited a moment, and shoved his way down the corridor.

* * *

The Quidditch pitch was filled with students for the Gryffindor Quidditch team try-outs—even more than last year, James Potter noted. And he told Edgecombe as much.

"It's because we won last year," Edgecombe explained. "Now everyone wants to be on the team." He looked around a bit. "I even see some non-Gryffindors here."

"Who?"

"There's Slytherins over there," Edgecombe answered, pointed towards Cassie, Scorpius, and Nott. "I bet they're stealing secrets—Scorpius Malfoy is a beater for the Slytherins, you know."

"He's friends with my brother, too, now," James replied coldly. "After—you know, last year's events."

"Events," Edgecombe repeated, a bit of a smile on his face. "You could call it that."

"He's still a dumb little piece of shit," James muttered. "Bad influence, you know, on Albus. He's really quite impressionable."

"He's a smart kid."

"Oh, he's very smart—but if you tell him to do something, he'll do it." He grinned a bit, a bit ironically. "When we were kids, I used to get him to do so much shit for me. But to hell if I'll let Scorpius take advantage of him."

"Didn't know you were so protective of your brother," Edgecombe said. "I didn't think you two got on."

"We don't," James said. "But he's still my brother, you know?"

"He's trying out today," Oliver said suddenly, appearing behind the two of them. "Did he tell you?"

"Albus? No—he couldn't be. He's never even ridden a broom before." His face burst into a guilty grin. "This is going to be so damn hilarious."

He was wrong, of course, to his surprised. He could scarcely believe his eyes—he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Albus was ripping through the skies, going quite fast despite his old school-issue broomstick, and weaving in and out of the rest of the Gryffindor team, which was in hot pursuit. And then he raised his arm—the one that held the Quaffle—and shot it in there, right past the keeper's outstretched fingers.

And he did it again. And again .And a fourth and fifth time—five for five! The best of the day. James couldn't believe it—no, he couldn't believe it . He could scarcely wait to tell his parents.

"How did you do that?" James asked, as Albus landed down next to him. "Where did you learn to fly like that?"

"I practiced," Albus answered proudly. "This summer, at the Woods, and then Oliver worked with me the last couple weeks here, and—" He grinned a bit. "Are you proud, James?"

James nodded a bit, smiled, and said, "I'm damn proud, Albus." He paused, smiled a bit wider. "Our first practice is on Monday."


	34. Year Four: Chapter Four

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long again... We just finished Mardi Gras down here in New Orleans, so... take that as you will. This is a good chapter though, nice and long, albeit a little melodramatic. Let me know what you think!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

**_C__ha__pter Four_**

"I know!" Scorpius exclaimed. "I was there. I saw the whole thing."

"You were amazing," Cassie added. "Made every shot."

"I've never seen Cassie take so much interest in Quidditch," Scorpius said slowly, looking at his sister. "You never showed interest when I played."

Cassie turned a bit red, but then smiled weakly as she turned back towards Albus. "You were really good."

"Well," Scorpius said, "I managed to secure a celebratory—ah—beverage for tonight."

Albus stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Firewhisky," he grinned proudly. "I nicked it from the kitchens—I bet you didn't know how much liquor Professor Weasley keeps locked up in this place." He patted his bookbag gently, and there was the noticeable clatter of glass bottles banging against each other.

"I can't."

"Can't!"

"Not—not tonight, I mean. I have an Arithmancy quiz in the morning, and I couldn't possibly—"

Then, in the blink of an eye, Albus was pinned against the wall, with Scorpius's wand pressed firmly against his throat. "Albus Potter!" he shrieked playfully. "You're going to drink tonight."

Albus sighed a bit, as a cackling Scorpius lowered his wand. "Just a bit, then, all right? You'll let me stop when I feel like it?"

"Fine," Scorpius replied, still grinning widely. "And damn it, Albus, you should have seen your face when I pinned you with my wand!"

Albus said nothing—but he didn't really have to at this point; Oliver came rounding the corner quickly, and his face erupted into a big smile when he saw Albus.

"You didn't tell me!" he gasped. "James offered you a spot right at the tryouts?"

"I didn't have a chance to talk to you yet."

"I just can't believe it!" Oliver gasped. "We're going to be unstoppable this year, you just wait."

Scorpius cleared his throat loudly.

"We're celebrating tonight."

"In the Slytherin dorms," Scorpius quickly added. "You probably wouldn't want to come down there—not many Gryffindors do. And I don't think I even have enough firewhisky—"

"Firewhisky?" Oliver grinned. "Of course I'm there, then."

"Wonderful," Scorpius muttered.

* * *

"For the last time, Neville, I will not talk to him!" 

"It's water under the bridge. He needs you. He needs both of us. He'll get fired—could you imagine?"

Gabrielle frowned a bit, pursed her lips, and said, "Let him."

"What!"

"Let him," she replied. "If he's as emotionally unstable as you're making him out to be, then maybe a job working with children isn't healthy for him, or for anyone."

"He hurt you," Neville argued. "I know that. But damn it, Gabrielle. He needs you. It's going to take a lot of work to bring him back, but—"

"I told you," she said coldly. "I don't care if you bring him back or not. It's not any of my business if he chooses to throw his life away. There are plenty of jobs out there for qualified wizards—and he could do fine in any of them. But if it were up to me, I wouldn't let him continue at Hogwarts. It's not right for him."

"You're just being vengeful," Neville replied.

"You're just afraid you're going to lose someone else," she replied. "First Luna, now Teddy—and then you'll just be stuck here with nasty old Gabrielle." She suddenly shook her head somberly. "I didn't mean that, Neville—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean that at all."

"I know you didn't."

"He played me!" she gasped. "He used me to make Victoire—to make my_niece_ jealous. It's what I deserve, I suppose, harboring a crush on my niece's boyfriend, hoping that I'd be able to steal him away. No. I didn't deserve any of it." Her whole demeanor had, by now, changed completely—anger had given way to tears, which strolled absentmindedly down her beautiful part-veela face. "I loved him, Neville. You know I did."

"I know," he replied. "I can't even imagine if Luna had done to me what Teddy had done to you—but he's still your friend and he always will be. I've known him since he was born, Gabrielle—and he's never been like this before. I'm worried about him—I really am. And you're right. I don't want to lose another person."

They heard footsteps up the stairs—and, speak of the devil, Teddy appeared. He looked just as disheveled as he always did nowadays, and he had a small pewter flask in his hand, which he held as still as he could, as he stumbled across the room.

"You're talking about me," he accused. "You're talking about me."

"We're not," Gabrielle replied. "We were talking about the weather."

"Gabrielle—you hate me."

She stiffened a bit. "I don't."

"Of course you do," he said. "I—I wish you didn't."

"I told you I don't."

They heard more footsteps.

"Get upstairs," Neville rasped. But Teddy said nothing; he just stood there, staring off at the doorway with acute interest, as if he had never seen the figure of Charlie Weasley before.

"Good afternoon," Charlie said pleasantly. "Neville, Gabrielle, Teddy." His smile was a bit plastic, a bit unwavering, and he suddenly focused on Teddy. "I'm going to need to speak with you, Teddy."

"Right now?" Neville interjected. "We—we were just about to discuss some things of our own."

"I'm afraid this can't wait," Charlie replied. "I'll give you five minutes or so to—er—clean yourself up. Will that be enough?"

Teddy was frozen; he just stood there, his jaw dropped a bit, his eyes bulging from their sockets. He sobered up immediately, from fear alone, and he suddenly became aware of how badly he must've reeked of alcohol, in the face of Charlie's stiff face.

"More than enough," he said. "I—I'll go get ready. Can you tell me what this is about at least?"

"Five minutes, then," Charlie repeated. "Go on. I'll wait here."

Teddy stared blankly for a few more seconds, then quickly hustled his way up the staircase.

Neville and Gabrielle immediately both looked to Charlie—but said nothing; the suddenly stern look on his face told them that they weren't expected to offer commentary.

* * *

Oliver, Rose, Brendan, and Katie hadn't been to the Slytherin dormitories before—but they were impressed that, despite its location in a dungeon under the lake, it was comfortable. They didn't spend very much time in the common room, though; they were immediately whisked away to Scorpius's room, where a simple brown paper bag sat on the bedside table. 

Quite a few people had turned out for the event—Scorpius, Avery, and Nott, for starters, as well as their two other roommates who Albus didn't know—and Cassie had brought three third year friends.

Scorpius didn't waste any time; once everyone was inside, he bolted the door, and then, looking over his shoulder as if he expected Headmaster Weasley to pop in at any moment, he slowly removed each bottle of firewhisky from their paper bag cocoons. Without a word, he poured—and, once everyone got their drink, his face erupted into a triumphant smile. He switched on the wireless, suddenly filling the room with the new Weird Sisters song, then crawled across the bed over to the Gryffindors.

"So, how is it?" he asked.

Rose shrugged. "Better than I thought it would be."

"I think it's brilliant," Oliver added, taking a hearty sip. "I have to say, Malfoy, I didn't think you would have the balls to through a party in your room like this."

"Ah, young Wood," Scorpius replied icily, taking a sip from his own cup, "you'll learn that Slytherins have much more fun than Gryffindors. That's why Albus has been hanging around so much."

Oliver frowned a bit, but then quickly took a sip again. When he was done, he shot Scorpius a quick, glassy smile. "I guess so," he said quietly.

"Albus!" Scorpius shouted suddenly. "You're not drinking."

"I had a few sips," Albus replied slowly.

"Drink it!" Scorpius instructed, a light-hearted grin on his face. "If you want to hang with the Slytherins, I mean. Maybe we're just too cool—"

"Albus, don't do it if you don't want to," Oliver said suddenly. "It's stupid."

Albus froze for a bit, looked repeatedly between Oliver and Scorpius—then, a proud smile appearing on his face, he raised the glass to his lips, and emptied the contents into his mouth.

"Hell yes," Scorpius grinned. "Cassie—bring him another."

* * *

Charlie and Teddy were silent the whole walk to Charlie's office—and they continued the silence, even as Teddy sat down in front of the headmaster's desk. 

Finally, it was Charlie to break the silence. "I'm worried about you," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"You—you haven't been yourself," he replied. "Look, Teddy, Victoire's a great girl—she's my niece, I mean. But—don't you think you're going overboard with this?"

"If this is all you wanted to talk to me about," Teddy said, standing up, "then I must say goodnight."

"Sit! You want to keep your job, don't you?"

Teddy grew pale. "Of course I do. This is all I have left."

"Then you'll listen," Charlie said firmly. "We all know your dad was—well, an alcoholic. But he kicked the habit before his death. Do you know why?"

"Of course I do," Teddy muttered. "Dumbledore offered him a job at Hogwarts—if he could give up drinking."

"That's right," Charlie replied. "And your father stayed sober for the next four years—until his passing." He cleared his throat. "I'm—well, I'm going to offer you the same choice."

"What?"

"You're a great teacher," Charlie explained, "and I sure as hell don't want to lose you. You're going on sabbatical for the next month."

"What?"

"Stop saying 'what'," he said. "Just listen to me. I'm sending you off to St. Mungo's. They have an excellent rehab facility, and—"

"You can't be serious—"

"Shut up and listen," Charlie snapped. "Damn it, Teddy, just listen for once, will you?"

Teddy shrunk back in his chair, folded his arms, and glared—not blinking—at the headmaster.

"You'll leave tomorrow," he said. "It's a nice place—Hogwarts will be paying—and they'll teach you how to live without a dependency on—"

"And if I don't go?"

"Don't go?"

"Yes," he said. "You're not Daddy, you know. You don't have any right to force me into doing anything."

"If you don't go," Charlie said calmly, "then you will be fired, effective immediately. The choice is yours, Teddy—but I don't think you really have a choice."

He sighed. "How long will I have to be there?"

"As long as it takes," Charlie said. "You'll leave tomorrow."

The door swung open, and Romilda Vane stood there.

"Right on time," Charlie said, standing up. "Ah—Romilda. I thought that Mr. Malfoy would be—"

"Draco's ill," she said, strolling forward loftily towards Charlie, sticking out her hand—covered with three large diamond rings—which he dutifully, if a bit begrudgingly, kissed, as she expected. She giggled a bit when he did that, then withdrew her hand, clutching it to her heart a bit, then stroking her gold silk robes. "He sent me in his stead. We both that it might be nice for me to poke around the castle a bit since I've been so busy."

The smile disappeared from Charlie's face. "Poke around all you want."

"You haven't even asked about the business!"

Charlie sighed. "How's the business?"

"Smashing," she said. "I have little to do with the day-to-day business of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, of course, but we've just appointed Evan Rosier to the chairmanship—and he assures me things have never been better, not even when George was running the place. He has big plans—going international, even!"

"That's good to hear," Charlie replied uninterestedly, monotonously. "I can't imagine Rosier being a good choice, that's all."

"I assure you, he's the best there is," she replied. "But enough talk! I can't linger; there's a gala tonight at St. Mungo's. I'm dedicating their new wing—in honor of George, of course. But Draco said all you needed was my signature?"

"Yes, yes," he said. "I've appointed a new faculty member, albeit a temporary one—as you were told—and I need your verification that the Board of Governors ratified it."

"Of course," she replied. "A quill, please."

Teddy craned his neck—but couldn't quite see what she was signing.

"It's your replacement," Charlie explained quickly to him. "Just temporary; the Ministry's sending someone over."

"The Ministry?"

"Yes—yes, but not in the bad way," he said. "An auror will be coming to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts—and do other duties, of course. And no, Teddy, I can't tell you what they are."

"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Charlie," Romilda said gleefully, putting down the quill. "Dear boy, it has everything to do with the Renegade Ten."

"The ten Death Eaters that Greyback broke out?" Teddy asked. "I heard they're being called that now."

"They want blood," she said. "A lot of blood. And the Ministry has strong evidence they could be striking Hogwarts—revenge, I suspect, against Albus and that Malfoy boy."

"Thank you, Romilda," Charlie said. "I'm sure the other governors would appreciate you keeping quiet."

"I daresay they would," she said, "but if your mum couldn't keep me quiet, I doubt they can." She turned back to Teddy. "Aurors raided the Renegade Ten's camp—and they found blueprints of Hogwarts. So one can only assume—"

"Romilda!" Charlie hissed.

She rolled her eyes. "That's fine."

* * *

Albus fell over. For the third time this evening—but, like the other times, it didn't hurt. He just began giggling, as he tossed his head back and forth. 

"Someone's drunk," said Nott, without moving from where he lied on top of his bed.

"Not drunk," Albus spat back, grabbing onto the stone wall so it would stop moving. "Just—resting down here." He looked around. "Where's Oliver?"

"Puking," Katie replied. She glanced through the open door to the bathroom. "In the shower."

"Damn it," Scorpius answered, as he hustled over there. "If Wood gets Gryffindor all over my towel—" And he disappeared inside the bathroom.

"Want to head back?" Katie asked.

"You're not even drunk," Albus replied.

"I'm a little bit," she replied. "Want to walk back?"

"I could go," Brendan replied, standing up a bit wobbly. "It's late." He turned to Rose. "Hey, Rose, want to walk back?"

She shrugged. "I'd rather make sure Oliver is okay."

"Let's go anyway," Katie said. "I can get us back."

"I'm the most sober one," Brendan protested. "I—I can't drink this week." His eyes darted over to Avery. "Stomachache." He turned back to Katie, and whispered, "It's on Monday."

"I know," she said. "I charted it."

Albus lost interest in their conversation; they left soon after, anyway. He hummed a little tune to himself, laughed a bit at the whole situation, and then wandered into the bathroom.

Oliver was quite pale—but with a goofy grin plastered on his face. "I think it's time to go," he said. "Let's go, Al."

"Just a little longer," Albus said. "I'm still having fun."

Oliver's eyes narrowed; he said nothing, but just shoved his way past Albus, and then left the dormitory.

Albus didn't catch up with him until they were at the bottom of the stairs.

"What the hell is your problem?" Albus asked.

"What's yours?" Oliver snapped. "You're supposed to be my best friend."

"I am!"

"You're sure as hell not acting like it," he said. "The Albus I became friends with wouldn't be hanging around these—these Slytherins."

"What's wrong with them?"

"They'll stab you in the back the first moment they have," he said. "And then who will you have left? You're not great at making friends, Albus."

"Clearly not," he retorted, "if I made friends with you."

Oliver stood there for a second, fuming but saying nothing—until he finally muttered, "You just like that they make you feel powerful. Like you're part of something—and not the weak little git who can't do shit. How many times had your dad fought Voldemort when he was fourteen? Four? I guess you just can't add up."

Something came over Albus; he raised his fist, punched Oliver in the side of the face, and then took a quick step back, keeping his hands up in case a brawl ensued.

It didn't; Brendan appeared at the minute, managed to pull Oliver aside, and calm him down enough where they could leave. They didn't ask Albus to walk back with them—but he wasn't really that surprised, though, with the looks they gave him as they walked out of the common room.

Unsure of what to do, and wanting to be alone in the dark, he went over to one of the green couches—but sat on a shrouded figure, who suddenly leapt up, giving a high-pitched shriek.

The lights shot on—and it was only Cassie.

"Oh—Albus," she said, smiling a bit as she pushed hair out of her face. "You scared me."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm studying," she said. "Well, I was. I fell asleep. I told you that—hours ago, when you asked me why I wasn't drinking. I have a Care of Magical Creatures test tomorrow."

"You're awfully pretty," Albus said suddenly.

She blushed. "You are, too," she said. She giggled a bit nervously. "Well—not pretty, but you know."

He gave her a sheepish, drunken grin—and, without another word, kissed her squarely on the mouth.


	35. Year Four: Chapter Five

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** Sorry it took so long again... Midterms, plus a slew of original fiction I had due for some classes. Yeah. I'm sorry; I'll try to post chapters more frequently.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

**_C__ha__pter Five_**

"You kissed her?" Rose hissed, nearly spitting out a mouthful of eggs at breakfast the next morning. "My God, Albus, how much did you have to drink?"

"I don't know," Brendan said slowly. "She's pretty cute. I would've kissed her." He looked sheepishly at Albus. "I—never mind." He went back to his bacon, which he swished around the sticky syrup remnants on his plate.

"But she's a Malfoy," Rose continued. "Albus, you know your dad would go ballistic on that. A Malfoy? He hates Malfoys."

"I didn't say I'm going to marry her, you know," Albus muttered. "It was one kiss—and I was drunk. A mistake. Can't we just count it as a stupid thing I did?"

"I've never known you to do anything stupid," Brendan said. "I was drunk last night, too, and you didn't see me snogging Rose in the middle of the Slytherin common room." He suddenly turned bright red, then looked over to Rose, who was staring at him intently, a quizzical look on her face. "I didn't mean it would be stupid; I just meant—I—"

Albus grinned. "You're not getting out of that one, Bren." But his smile quickly faded when the door to the Great Hall opened—and there stood Oliver and Katie. "Let's get out of here, I think. We have to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts—don't want to be late."

"You didn't even want to go to Defense today," Brendan replied. "It's the worst class ever. You just want to go so you can get away from Oliver."

"What happened last night?" Rose asked. "You two have been odd all morning."

"Albus punched him!" Brendan exclaimed. "Can you believe it?"

"He doesn't like the Slytherins," Albus replied. "And they're my friends. You—you two like the Slytherins, don't you?"

Brendan and Rose exchanged knowing glances, then quickly turned back to Albus, plastic smiles pasted on their faces.

"They're a nice change of pace," Rose said slowly.

"Great change of pace," Brendan echoed.

"Fine," Albus muttered, standing up. "You hate them, too. I don't care."

"We don't hate them!" Brendan replied. "They're—they're just not the best people."

"They've been nothing but nice to you," Albus said. "Maybe you're all just jealous." He grabbed his books, and stormed out of the Great Hall without waiting for another word.

Katie was the one to follow him into the Entrance Hall.

"What was that about?" she asked, grabbing his shoulder. "You just screamed at Brendan and Rose, and Oliver said you hit him last night—"

"You too," he said. "I thought you'd have liked the Slytherins, Katie. You probably should have been in their house, I think. Blood runs deep."

Her mouth dropped, and she looked as if she would cry. "Shut up," she said finally, in a very meek voice. "I've had enough of this—just because I'm—I'm You-Know-Who's descendent, doesn't mean—it doesn't mean—"

"I know," he said slowly. "I'm sorry, Katie—it's just such an easy target, sometimes, you know?"

"Don't let it be," she whispered. "Albus, can you imagine what it's like knowing that your grandfather is capable of doing—doing terrible things? I can't bear it sometimes. Sometimes I just feel like I'm destined to be—to be evil." She shuddered a bit, then bit her lip, as the color abruptly left her face.

Albus enveloped her into a tight hug. "You're not evil," he said. "You never will be—because you can choose what you are. I was lying before—blood doesn't mean anything. You're a Gryffindor, and you're a great person." He sighed a bit. "There's something—something I always wanted to tell you."

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath, then shook his head. "I can't tell you this. You'll hate me."

"I promise I won't."

"No," he said. "Maybe some other time."

* * *

"Tell me, won't you?" Gabrielle begged, as she and Neville left the faculty common room on the way to their first classes. "Why did Teddy leave?" 

"I don't know! For the third time."

"You do so," she said. "You're Deputy Headmaster. Charlie must've told you."

"He—no, I don't know."

"You do so! I'm not going to let it go, Neville. You might as well tell me."

He shook his head. "You broke me."

"Good," she grinned. "Now tell me."

"Charlie sent him off to rehab," he said, "to get his problems out of the way."

The smile left Gabrielle's face. "Oh. Well that's good, I suppose, isn't it? Then we can finally have our Teddy back." She looked at him. "Wait—who did Charlie get to replace him?"

"Harry Potter."

"What?"

"Can you think of a better replacement?"

"No, but—but he's at the Ministry."

"It's an important job," Neville said. "You know the Renegade Ten?"

"Of course," she replied. "All over the papers."

"The Ministry thinks they'll want revenge on Albus and Malfoy—he killed their leader, after all—but they figure they can deter an assault on the castle if the Ten know Harry is at Hogwarts."

Gabrielle nodded, and then said nothing; the two of them walked silently down the crowded hall for another ten feet or so, until she finally said, "Have you heard from Luna recently?"

"No," he said flatly. "But I read in the Prophet that she and Rolf married. I predict they're in Sweden now, or something, looking for Snorkacks."

"She'd like to hear from you."

"Are you going to write to Teddy?"

"No, but—" She shook her head. "I guess it's the same situation, isn't it?"

* * *

Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins was full of the typical pre-class chatter; generally because they all dreaded the boringness to come. But they all fell immediately silent when the door opened, and Teddy didn't walk in. 

"Good morning, everyone," Harry said, a thin smile on his face. "I'm Professor Potter. Teddy—er, Professor Lupin—is going to be out for the rest of the term, and I'm going to be filling in for him."

"Oh, dear God," Albus whispered, as he slid down further under his desk.

"Potter, sit up!"

"Yes, sir," Albus muttered, clamoring to get up. Mortifying. There was a small amount of laughter from the rest of class, and Albus felt his entire face go red. Katie was the only one to give him an apologetic gaze; even Oliver, still fuming with his bruised cheek, joined in the laughter.

Class was fun, for once; Harry had them all practice shield charms—a very hands-on lesson that they all sorely missed from last term—but then Albus couldn't wait to get out of the classroom. He was the first one to leave when the bell rang, but in his haste, he ran right into Cassie Malfoy, who let out a frightened squeak, and dropped her books all over the corridor.

"I'm—I'm sorry," Albus said. "Let me help you."

"Thanks," she said, as they both bent down. "I've been meaning to talk to you, Albus."

"About—about what?"

"Last night," she said, brushing a hanging blonde lock out of her pretty face. "It was my first kiss."

"Mine too," he said quickly. "But I'm sure you had a lot to drink, too, and it would probably just be better if we forgot—"

"I didn't drink last night," she said slowly. "Remember?"

The color drained from Albus's face. "Oh. Oh! That's right. How did—how did your Care of Magical Creatures test go?"

"It went fine," she said sternly. She paused for a moment. "Do you think it was a mistake?"

"It seemed fine in the moment," he said. "But could you imagine what would happen if we went together? Could you imagine what our families would say—hell, could you imagine what your brother would say?"

"What if I don't care?"

"What if I think you should?"

"Look," she said. "I don't want to date you, Albus, and I sure as hell don't want to get into some long-term complicated relationship with you. I just want to hang out a bit—maybe see where it goes?"

Albus sighed for a moment—but couldn't help but smile when he looked into her wide blue eyes. "I think that'd be okay," he said. "Just to see where it goes."

"Good," she said. "I was just on my way to the lake—you know, if you wanted to come."

He grinned at her. "I'd like that."

They walked downstairs, their hands grazing each other as they went, but never connecting, never holding each other—certainly, they weren't there yet. They didn't say much for another twenty minutes or so, as they made a lap around the lake, walking until they were just on the hill above Hogsmeade, far from the castle.

"I like it out here," she said. "The lake, I mean. It's nice, isn't it?"

"It's really nice," he replied. "I'm having fun."

"Are you?" she asked. "I didn't think you were—I don't think I'm very fine. Scorpius is the fun one—but you probably knew that already, didn't you?"

"You're a lot of fun." He paused. "I'm the boring one. You've met James, haven't you?"

"We're not so different, I guess," she said. "Big brothers, famous fathers." She yawned. "What do you think of Scorpius? Stupid question, sorry. You like him a lot."

"Of course I do."

"I know," she said. "He just doesn't let me do anything sometimes." She grinned. "Like if he knew we kissed last night, he would kill you."

"He wouldn't kill you?"

"I'm his little sister," she grinned. "It'd be all your fault." She paused. "It's really cold, isn't it? Well, it's November—stupid thing to say. I do that. I'm pretty random sometimes—and I don't know when to stop talking." She turned red, but was still smiling. "You'll have to tell me to shut up if I keep going on. Like now. Now would be a good time. I'm sorry—I'm a little nervous. Or crazy. Maybe both."

He suddenly stopped walking, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in for a kiss.

"What was that for?" she whispered, as they broke away.

"I'm crazy too, I guess," he replied, grinning. "And I really like you, Cassie."

* * *

Oliver came into the dormitory—and Albus was already there, lying on his bed and reading a book. They both made eye contact, then quickly looked away without exchanging a single word to each other. Oliver went over to his bed and drew the drapes shut. He stayed there for a good five minutes, until he grabbed the drapes, pulled them open, and sat on the edge of his bed facing Albus. 

"All right," he said. "I'm sorry. But you didn't have to hit me."

"I'm sorry, too," Albus replied. "I didn't mean to hit you. I just don't want you to have a problem with Scorpius."

"But—I just do," he said. "I just don't think he's a good influence."

"I don't need an influence," Albus replied. "I'm my own person, Oliver. I don't think the people I hang around with will change that in any way."

"But he will," Oliver replied. "I don't like you when you're around him. You do everything he tells you to do. And, one of these days, he's going to make you cut me out—me, Rose, Katie, and Brendan, I mean—and you'll do it."

"I won't!" Albus gasped. "Oliver, you're my best friend. You know that. Scorpius won't replace you."

"It's just," he said, "that I've lost so many people in my life. My mum, and my dad—well, I have him, but you know. And I just think—" He shook his head. "I don't want to lose you, too. It's stupid. I sound like a woman. I don't mean to."

"You're not going to lose me, Oliver," Albus replied. "I promise you that, all right? We're friends for life—that's how it works, you know?"

"I guess," he said with a slight grin. He punched Albus on the shoulder playfully. "First game on Saturday. Excited?"

"Nervous," he replied. "I feel like I'm going to screw up—and it'll be a disaster."

"You'll do great," Oliver replied. "James wouldn't have put you on the team if you weren't going to great."

Albus shrugged, by managed to crack a small smile. "I guess you're right."


	36. Year Four: Chapter Six

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.**  
**

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

**_C__ha__pter Six_**

Albus and Oliver were late—late for the first game of the year. Damn it, James would kill them both if they didn't get there soon; the game started in twelve minutes. 

Their muddy shoes both caught on the polished marble floors of the entrance hall, as the two of them flung themselves around the corner—nearly right into Cassie and two of her Slytherin friends.

"You've got to look when you go around corners, Al," she grinned. "I was just looking for you—the rumor is you weren't down at the pitch." She studied Albus for a moment. "I guess it was true, then."

"Too true," Oliver interrupted loudly. "We're in a huge rush."

"Oh," she said. "Of course—sorry. I didn't mean to hold you up."

"Are you going to the game?" Albus asked.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it," she said. She motioned to her Slytherin scarf. "I'll be sitting on the Slytherin side, of course—but I'll be cheering for you inside my head."

"Cassie!" one of her friends gasped. "What about Scorpius?"

"Well, I'll just stay neutral, maybe," she said, blushing profusely. "But good luck anyway, Al. I know you'll do great."

They both stood there, pretty red, but didn't dare to move—until Oliver loudly cleared his throat.

"We really have to go," he said sternly.

Albus grinned over at his friend, then looked back to Cassie—then he shook her hand—damn it, why did he do that?—and embarrassedly ran off with Oliver, leaving a very confused Cassie standing next to the stairs.

"Gryffindor team will have to forfeit in four minutes," Neville announced, his voice magnified to fill the entire pitch, "if they can't get the required number of players."

"We're good!" James shouted, running up to the faculty box. "They're here!" He shot an angry look towards Oliver and Albus, who were still buttoning up their Quidditch robes as they made their way to the center of the field.

"All right," Neville continued. "We're beginning. The Quaffle is up—and Gryffindor Chaser Albus Potter grabs the Quaffle straight away, his first start for the Gryffindor house team—but he drops it, as he narrowly avoids a bludger hit by Slytherin Beater Pepperidge. All right—Gryffindor recovers the Quaffle; Chaser Wood weaves in and out, passes to Chaser Dawlish—Dawlish to Wood, back to Dawlish—oh, and she nearly drops it, but Wood recovers. Wood to Potter, back to Wood—Wood scores! Ten to zero."

The Gryffindor side went wild—but they didn't have much time to celebrate; Scorpius already had the Quaffle, and was charging down the field on a breakway.

"Chaser Malfoy takes a shot—but it's blocked by Keeper Katie Carrow—what a save! She passes it to Chaser Potter, who takes it down the pitch—and he passes it to Wood, who passes it back to Potter—Potter scores! Twenty to zero, Gryffindor."

The game wore on—no sign of the snitch and, tired of waiting, James took to doing a variety of tricks for the entertainment of the Gryffindor box—his personal favorite, broom surfing, were he stood, one-footed, on the shaft of the broomstick, and flew through the air with his left foot sticking out behind him, and his arms outstretched. Everyone applauded, and he had a triumphant grin decorating his fair face.

But then Scorpius saw the snitch and, though he tried to catch it as discreetly as possible, James was too fast for him; he leapt down into a sitting position on his broomstick, and ripped through the air underneath Scorpius—and he got there first. He flew up towards the Gryffindor box, holding the struggling snitch gleefully in his outstretched hand.

"Potter gets the snitch!" Neville roared. "Gryffindor wins, three-thirty to one-sixty."

Albus could scarcely move as he made his way to the ground. Eighteen goals Gryffindor had scored—and he had scored seven of them. Seven! His first game! His legs felt like someone had used the Jelly-Legs Curse on him; he could scarcely make his way across the echoing pitch to the locker rooms.

As he dressed into his regular robes, James came up, clapped a hand on his back, and said, "I'm pretty damn proud of you, Al."

Albus turned around, a huge grin on his face, and he latched his arms around his big brother. "Quidditch does run in the family, doesn't it?"

"It sure does," he grinned. "Once we get Lily out here, we'll be unstoppable—the Potter team. Could you imagine that? But even this year, Al—damn, if you, Oliver, and Whitney keep scoring like you're doing now, we'll win the cup for sure!"

He was practically jumping up and down in his own excitement by this point, so Albus let James go over to the other players and, shaking his head approvingly, happily, he made his way outside the locker rooms—where there was the shadowy figure of a girl standing in front of him, masked by the sun blaring behind her.

"You didn't even have to bump into me this time," Cassie said, grinning. "I came down to see you, and tell you that you were amazing out there." She turned a bit red, looked at the grass, and then muttered, "Well—I just wanted to tell you that, so I should probably just go." Without making eye contact, she turned a bit, and took a few steps away from Albus—but he ran up, wheeled her around, and kissed her for the second time.

"I want to see where it goes, too," he said as their lips broke apart—though he was still holding her tightly in his arms. "But I think I can figure out where it does."

* * *

No one would have guessed, but Christmas snuck up on everyone this year. Albus in particular. He was happy to go home, of course—not to mention that this meant he would no longer have his dad working at Hogwarts once the new term began—but he was going to miss Cassie for three weeks. And—this was the most maddening part—he couldn't tell anyone; they decided they were going to keep their relationship—could you even call it that? Albus wondered—under wraps for a bit, until they managed to find the courage to tell everyone they were dating each other—especially Scorpius. Albus knew Scorpius was his friend—but the Slytherin was so overprotective of his sister, he didn't know how Scorpius would react. It was uncharted territory—so they figured they just wouldn't say anything. If anyone asked—just friends. Good enough. Friends who would sneak off for a walk by the lake, hand-in-hand, or perhaps for a Hogsmeade weekend at Madam Puddifoot's—but friends. Just friends, as far as anyone knew.

Oliver had, again, decided to stay with the Potters at Grimmauld Place—definitely a tradition by now—which helped pass the time. Albus couldn't help but enjoy his company—no matter how close he did get to Scorpius, or even Cassie, for that matter, Oliver would always be his best friend, and he appreciated that fact.

But, while holidays were always happy affairs at number twelve, Grimmauld Place—with more Weasleys than they could count, the smell of Mrs. Weasley's freshly baked Christmas cookies wafting from the kitchen, and towering pyramids of gifts, especially since all of the Weasley children had done quite well for themselves—there was a certain sort of awkwardness this year. Albus noticed it. They all noticed it, even if no one said anything about it. Ron, Hermione, Hugo, and Rose had gone to their Muggle grandparents for Christmas—something that Ron claimed was just normal, but everyone knew it was because he didn't want to see Romilda, after she passed him up for chairman of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. It didn't matter, though, because Romilda wasn't even there; she went skiing in Switzerland with her twenty-three-year-old ski instructor—quite the gossip in the Weasley household, resulting in Mrs. Weasley's strong adherence to the idea that Romilda had only married George for his money, and that George would have been far better off if he had never left Angelina, his first wife, and their two children, for a tart like Romilda. And she wasn't the only one gone; Percy had been avoiding Harry for the last few months, not believing Harry's claim that they need to move on from their past animosity, so he wasn't there, taking his wife, Audrey, and their daughters, Molly and Lucy, to Bermuda for a tropical Christmas. And, of course, Gabrielle, not wanting to encounter Teddy, who had just checked out of rehab, had gone to France to see her parents and Victoire—and, not wanting to spend the holidays without her sister or daughter, Fleur had dragged Bill down to France. Charlie, of course, was staying at Hogwarts—so it was just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the Potters, and Oliver. But he didn't mind. It wasn't bad or anything—just different.

"Who do you keep writing?" James asked suddenly, as he pushed open the door to Albus's room at two in the morning. Albus quickly pushed the owl out the window, blushed red, and then looked sheepishly at James.

"No one," he replied. "I think I hear Mum calling."

"Mum's at the store," James said, with a sudden grin of entrapment appearing on his handsome face. "Who are you writing, Al?"

Albus leaned in, whispered, "Can you keep a secret?"

James looked a bit surprised, then quickly nodded.

"I've—I've been seeing a girl."

"Who?" James gasped. "Oh—don't tell me it's Portia MacLaren!"

"Who?"

"The fifth year Gryffindor," James replied with a wink. "The hot brunette from Australia?"

"Oh—Portia. Right. Friends with—that girl with all the acne."

"Diane," James said, with a purposeful shudder. "She touched my arm last year—I almost cursed it off." He grinned. "No—no, off topic. Who's this girl? You can tell me, Al. I'm you're big brother—and I've been with my fair share of women, if you know what I mean."

"I think everyone knows exactly what you mean, Aguamenti."

"Hey!" he gasped. "Only Denise Montgomery was allowed to call me that."

"How'd she come up with that, anyway?"

His brother turned a bit red as he said, "She certain aspects of me—er, resembled that spell. See, the first time we—well, I was a bit—eager—"

"Stop talking, please."

The door swung open, and Teddy stood there, his luggage in hand—and he looked better, Albus was glad to note; he had gone back to a healthy weight, his face was no longer ashen and lined, and he looked, for the first time in nine months, happy, as he sipped a ginger ale.

"You're back!" Albus exclaimed.

"I'm back," he said.

"So you'll be back for next term, can't you?"

"They haven't given me a date yet," Teddy said quietly. "I have to owl Charlie soon." He grinned. "How's having your dad teaching you?"

"He's good," James said. "He hasn't shown any baby pictures of us in the bath or anything, if that's what you mean."

"You must be learning loads, though," Teddy said. "He's done things we can't even dream of doing."

"He doesn't talk about himself," Albus replied. "He just goes by the book."

Teddy shook his head. "He shouldn't be doing that. I wonder why they—" He quickly forced a grin onto his face, and said, "Right, well, Ginny wanted me to come up here and get you two to help her with dinner."

He didn't seem ready to take no for an answer; he ushered them downstairs, outside the kitchen door, but then disappeared back into Harry's study. James noticed this—and, with a quick motion of his hand, Albus followed him to the study, where they crouched outside of the door, as they'd done a million times before, when Harry had private conversations.

"—and I'm not going to share my experiences with my children, Teddy, can't you understand that? They're better off not knowing what I went through."

"But I don't understand. They told me they want to give you a few more months because they wanted you to share your experiences. And if you're not doing that—"

"I'm there to beef up defenses from the Renegade Ten—you know that."

"But how long could it take? Some charms around the outside? They haven't struck yet, and it's been over a month."

"I know," Harry said. "There's another threat—from the inside." He lowered his voice noticeably. "Sestina McElroy—the seer—made a prophecy two months ago. The king's blood runs in Hogwarts, and therein lives the sacrificial savior. And we don't know what the hell it means—except that somehow there's someone on the inside. And damned if I'm going to let them get in—could you imagine if they did? Albus wouldn't last a minute."

"He helped defeat Greyback."

"He's proficient, yes, but against ten trained wizards, out to kill him? He's only fourteen."

"If I recall," Teddy said icily, "another Potter has outwitted a group of dark wizards at fourteen as well."

Harry sighed. "Point taken, Teddy—but no father wants to put their son in harm's way. I'd rather this whole business be behind us, too—not seeing Ginny for more than an hour or so a week is hard. But she agrees with me—it's too important."

"But why Hogwarts?"

"We don't know. Some of us thought they left the blueprints behind as a decoy. But, whether or not, it's a big psychological victory. Hogwarts hasn't been infiltrated since Voldemort. And if they kill Albus and Scorpius?—shouldn't even say things like that—it would resonate." He stiffened. "Plus, with the added benefit of their 'sacrificial savior' coming from inside Hogwarts? Why wouldn't they try to infiltrate?" He shook his head. "I shouldn't be revealing any more than I already have. Percy would have my head if I did." He paused. "How are you? Still sober?"

"Twenty-two days sober," Teddy said proudly. "And I checked out of rehab."

"I know," Harry said. "My contact at St. Mungo's told me you did." He stiffened again, and began shuffling papers blindly on his desk. "I suppose that means you'll want to go back to Hogwarts."

"Of course."

"I'll talk to Charlie," he said slowly. "But not tonight. It's Christmas, after all, isn't it?"

Albus intercepted Harry on the way out of his study.

"What did you tell Teddy?" he demanded.

Harry raised his eyebrows a bit, and said, with a surprising amount of coldness, "You'll learn, young man, that in my line of work, it's necessary to keep secrets." He gave a slight grin. "And, if I recall, you've maintained secrets of your own."

"What secrets?"

"Greyback," he said. "I didn't push it in the summer—and, no, I won't push it now. But I still can't help but wonder how you and the Malfoy boy could have killed Greyback."

"Well, we did."

"Indeed you did," he agreed. "I'm not doubting that. What you did was something the Ministry hadn't been able to. But I just wondered how. An Unforgivable Curse? For a thirteen-year-old wizard, impossible. For you—well, you're working above grade level, clearly, but still, I don't think even you could do it yet. Scorpius Malfoy, though; it makes me wonder if his father gave up the Dark Arts as much as we all think."


	37. Year Four: Chapter Seven

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** All right, so I realize it's been an excessively long time since I last updated, and I think I definitely owe an explanation for that. It's a pretty lame excuse, but I hope you accept it anyway: I've been very busy. I last posted around midterms, and then that spilled into term papers and fiction workshop submissions and finals and then summer school and work, which took up more time than I thought. And that was compounded by a computer crash that took out everything I'd written that wasn't online yet--up to Year Five, Chapter Two, unfortunately. But I had some time recently--mostly because I'm a college student down in New Orleans, and I had to evacuate two days ago from Hurricane Gustav, and so now I'm at home with nothing to do, so decided to pick this story back up! I hope you enjoy it and I'll try not to have such a long hiatus again. I've been writing a lot on this story, actually, and it's shaping up--I'm definitely planning on seeing this project through to the end, so I hope you'll all make it that far with me!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r Seven  
**_

"What's wrong?" Katie asked, after she cornered Albus one day, a few weeks later, as he left his Ancient Runes classroom. "You haven't said two words to me since we've gotten back to school."

"It's nothing," Albus said. "I just—no, it's nothing."

"You can tell me," she offered. "It's not like your girlfriend's jealous of me or anything, right?"

"How'd you know she's my girlfriend?"

"The great lengths you've gone through to hide it," she replied sarcastically. "Every time I see you two together, you're trying as hard as you can to not pounce on her and kiss her."

Albus blushed. "I thought we were doing a good job."

"I know you too well," she replied. "So tell me what's wrong."

"I can't," he said. "I really can't. But Katie—have you ever felt bad about your dad?"

There was a long, piercing silence, that seemed to linger in the air between them for an eternity. "Loads of times," she said slowly. "Why?"

"Well—I mean—you never felt like getting revenge or anything, did you?"

She grinned weakly. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," he said. "Forget I mentioned it."

"No," she replied, trying to keep her voice from quivering. She was unsuccessful. "Let's not forget you mentioned it. You—you don't think I'm doing something bad, do you?" She looked suddenly scared. "If it's about my blood line, Albus, you know perfectly well that—"

"No," he said, darting his eyes. "It's not that, it's just—well, we have Defense now. We shouldn't be late."

Neither of them said anything further as they walked silently down the corridor to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

* * *

Teddy stood there, grinning proudly and looking sharp in his new robes. Determined to make up for lost time, and rebuild his tattered reputation, each lesson was more exciting than the next—and he grew more energized as each day wore on, determined to make this semester his best one ever.

But there was one thing he hadn't done yet—and this had been weighing on him ever since he got back. He hadn't spoken to Gabrielle. She still gave him the cold shoulder every time he passed her—and he had to make peace with her before he could do anything else. He didn't know exactly what he would say—that he valued her as a friend, that he did have feelings for her? Damn it. He didn't even know how he felt. There was a line, between friend and love interest, and that line was far too blurred for Teddy to pinpoint his feelings to Gabrielle. She was a coworker, she was older than him, she was his ex-girlfriend's aunt—and he didn't even know if he did have feelings for her. Not that it would matter. After screwing her over as badly as he did, he doubted she would ever want a relationship with him. That ship had sailed long ago.

He hoisted a smile onto his face, and continued teaching the lesson without thinking much—but it was a success nonetheless. And he made it a point to, right afterwards, talk to Gabrielle; she had a free period, and would undoubtedly be in the faculty common room.

But he was surprised, before he could make a quick getaway, to see Albus waiting to speak with him. They didn't say anything to each other, as Teddy quickly ushered him inside his office.

"What did you want?" he said quickly.

"I—I wanted to talk about the Renegade Ten."

"Why the hell would you want to talk about that?'

"Because James and I overheard you and Dad talking on Christmas, and—"

"I know what you're thinking," Teddy said quickly, "and I thought it too. But still, we mustn't tell anyone. You mustn't betray a friend's trust for anything."

"You—you know? How do you know?"

"You told me," Teddy said. "Last year, remember? That's how we got the Polyjuice Potion made. Ring a bell, Al?"

"You think—you think it refers to Brendan?"

"I thought about it," he said gruffly. "Their king's blood? Whose blood do you think runs through Brendan's? He was bitten by Greyback, wasn't he?"

"I—I didn't think about that."

"Well, we know Brendan," Teddy said, "and he would never hurt anyone. And he'd sure as hell never help the Renegade Ten. He's not like that at all."

"But—"

"And if we tell anyone," he said, "he'd get expelled for sure. Werewolves aren't allowed to attend Hogwarts, and think about the repercussions for us? Aiding him? It's punishable by law—for all of us."

Albus stiffened a bit. "Is there anyone else the prophecy could refer to?"

"Of course," Teddy said. "But I can't name anyone else, can you?"

"No," he said quickly. "I can't."

* * *

Albus lied down on the grass later that day, after Quidditch practice, with Scorpius, Oliver, and Cassie sitting down in front of him, staring at him.

"He's been depressed all day," Oliver explained faintly to the two Slytherins.

"I'm just thinking," Albus muttered. "I can't think anymore?"

"It'd be nice to share something with the group," Scorpius answered.

"I—I want to tell you," he said, "but I promised her I wouldn't."

Cassie suddenly looked petrified, pointed discreetly to Scorpius behind his back, and then shook her head violently. Albus quickly, faintly, shook his head back in reply. She sat back down, looking only partially consoled by this, still watching him closely.

"It's about a friend of mine," he clarified, "and I think she could—well, I think—nevermind. I can't say it without breaking my promise to her."

"It's okay to break promises," Scorpius said, "if it's for the good of the order, you know?"

"I won't!" Albus gasped. "I promised, and so I won't—all right?"

Scorpius looked a bit taken aback. "I guess," he replied coldly. He turned to Cassie. "I got some firewhisky. Do you think any of your roommates would be interested in a little bit of a party in my room?"

Cassie rolled her eyes towards Albus, then looked back at her brother. "Surely you can get girls when they're sober?"

"It's harder," he replied frankly. "Have to loosen them up a bit first." He looked towards Albus. "What about you? Any Gryffindor girls you can bring?" He grinned a bit. "I promise you can have first choice."

Albus caught Cassie's eye. Awkward.

"None that I know of," he replied slowly. "But I can't even come, anyway. Oliver and I were going to work on our Herbology project tonight."

"That's not due for another two weeks," Scorpius said, becoming a bit annoyed. "You can do it tomorrow night, can't you?"

Albus shrugged. "What about it, Oliver? Tomorrow night?"

Oliver shrugged too, narrowed his eyes, but then gave a small nod.

* * *

There was a quick knock on the door; Gabrielle, in a scarlet dressing gown after her morning shower, rose from the vanity in her bedroom, set down her silver hairbrush, and made her way down the spiral staircase, through the parlor, and to the door.

She swung it open—but the smile vanished from her face when she saw Teddy standing there.

"I haven't talked to you in months," he said quietly, "and I think I need to. Can I come in?"

Gabrielle said nothing, but she stepped back from the door, and allowed him to enter. He sat down on the silk chaise, folded his hands together, and placed them on the dainty French coffee table, focusing only on them, and not Gabrielle's tempting eyes. It didn't matter, anyway; Gabrielle disappeared back into the bedroom.

He stood up, then, stoked the fire, and called, "I've always liked your quarters. It's so much bigger than my one little room."

"You'll have this one next year," she called back. "Professor Parkinson is leaving, and I'm getting hers. Spiral staircase, view of the lake, kitchenette and dining room—can't wait." She opened the door again, coming out fully dressed in a pair of silky silver robes—a color that always made her eyes look shockingly blue and her figure impeccable, and she knew very well that Teddy would notice.

"Look, rehab wasn't easy for me," he began. "But I'm sober, now, Gabrielle."

"Good for you," she replied coldly.

"You don't have to be so hostile to me."

"I don't?" she gasped, taking a step back from him. "Don't make me out to be the bitch, here, Teddy. After what you did to me this summer? You use me to get back at my niece—you take my heart, and twist it so that you can win back the woman you love? You played me, Teddy—and no, I don't think anything you say will ever make me forgive you for that." Tears were falling from her eyes now, but she was determined not to react to them—never let him see you sweat. "We could have been perfect together, Teddy. I was so crazily slit-my-own-wrists in love with you that I didn't even care about the drinking, or about Victoire, or about anything you did. But it's over now. It's all over. I don't love you anymore, and I don't think I ever can."

She had abandoned all pretenses now—her makeup was running and, choking on her own sobs, she latched her arms around Teddy. He slowly rocked her back and forth, hugging her tightly.

"You know what?" he said. "I was alone for almost two months—and I couldn't talk to Victoire, or Neville, or Harry, or anyone. But you know who I missed talking to the most?"

"Me?" she guessed curtly, as she unlatched her arms, and stepped back again. "What a line, Teddy. You'll have to do better than that."

"It's the truth," he said. "I can't bear not having you in my life. I can't bear it, Gabrielle." He gave her a bit of a grin. "I guess now I'm crazy slit-my-own-wrists in love with you, too. I've never regretted anything in my life as much as I regret hurting you."

She said nothing, as she wiped the mascara-tinted tears from her puffy red eyes. "You're going to hurt me if we get together. I know it, Teddy."

"I promise I won't," he said. "But you can't trust me, can you?"

"I can't. I'm sorry. I can't."

There was a long pause, which resonated through the finely furnished room. "It's fine," he said slowly. "I just don't want to lose you. We're friends, aren't we?"

She thought for a second, and then smiled, just slightly. "Of course we are," she said slowly. "We'll always be friends, Lupin, won't we?"

* * *

"I don't want you to meet any girls," Cassie said suddenly, as she and Albus sat in the library, at a table in the far back corner, surrounded by tall stacks on all sides.

"What?"

"Tonight. With Scorpius. I mean—I know you won't do anything—will you? No, you won't Stupid question. I—I—"

He set down the book, and leaned across the table. "How could you even think that?"

"I know," she said. "I know you won't. I know. You're so good. Forget I mentioned it. But—well, no. I mean, he'll try to push a girl on you, and you really shouldn't—well, I know you won't—but you shouldn't forget that you're with me."

"Do you want me to tell Scorpius about us, then?"

"No!" she gasped. "You can't, Albus. He'll be so angry."

"And what if he is? I'm crazy about you—and he should know. He'd be happy for us, Cassie."

"Why would we rock the boat?" she finally asked. "I love how things are right now, Albus. I love that we're together."

"I love you."

"You—you do? Oh, Albus—I love you too."

He leaned in to kiss her—but she pulled her head back ."You can't tell Scorpius about us."

"Why the hell not? It's not like we're just messing around or anything. Don't you think he'd be happier knowing I'm dating you than some guy he doesn't even know?"

"He wouldn't be happy either way," she said. "Trust me, Albus. You think he's this happy-go-lucky troublemaker—but he can get mad. Really mad. You've seen him. You hated his guts for what—three years? You know what he can be like."

"And if I did say anything," he said slowly, "and he asked you to stop seeing me—would you?"

"Just don't say anything, all right?"


	38. Year Four: Chapter Eight

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** Well, Gustav passed, and Ike passed, and so I figured, in celebration for that, it's time for the next chapter. Here it is. Enjoy!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r Eight**_

They had failed their Herbology project, because they never got to work on it, and Oliver was fuming that Albus didn't seem to care. And his anger just drove Albus away further—he just came by before lights-out, went to sleep, and left first thing in the morning. Oliver didn't know where he went; he just assumed he was hanging out with the Slytherins.

Brendan, Katie, and Rose noticed the feud, too—and Oliver refused to talk to them about it. He just sat there, reading, studying, doing whatever independently—brooding, most likely, too. They started to leave him alone, knowing that it would blow over faster if they didn't provoke him. He was too proud—much too proud.

Oliver was sitting there, alone, on his bed, when James came in.

"Where's Albus?" he asked.

"I haven't seen him," Oliver said coldly. "He hasn't been around all week; we had a fight four days ago."

"Over that Herbology thing?" James asked. "Damn it, Wood, you'd better resolve it before our match on Saturday."

"I'll reserve it when I bloody well want to, thanks," Oliver snapped.

"All right," James replied. "All right, do whatever you want. I just thought Gryffindor was important to you, is all."

"It is important to me," he replied. "More important than it is to your snot-nosed brother—spending all of his time hanging out with his Slytherin girlfriend."

James's eyes narrowed. "Albus's girlfriend is a Slytherin?"

Oliver thought for a moment, whether to say anything. "Yes," he said finally. "Cassie Malfoy. You probably know her."

"I've seen her," James said slowly. "I'd have said she was cute if she wasn't a Slytherin—and damn it, a Malfoy! When Dad hears about this—"

"No, wait!" Oliver gasped. "You can't tell him. You can't let Albus know I told you."

Scorpius was pacing around his empty Slytherin dormitory. "So it's Finnigan or Carrow that they're after?"

"I don't know," Albus said. "I'm worried for them—and I can't to Oliver about it, and I didn't know who else I could tell."

"What I don't understand," Scorpius said slowly, "is why Finnigan or Carrow have 'king's blood' in their veins."

"I can't tell you that," Albus replied. "I swore I wouldn't—and my word to my friends is the most important thing to me right now."

"I don't understand," he said. "If it'll help me figure out how to help you—isn't that important too?"

"Very," he said. "But I can't tell you."

"Fine," Scorpius said curtly. "I don't know how to help you, then, unless you just want me to track them or something—make sure they don't go out of bounds."

"I've been doing that," Albus said, reaching in his pocket for the Marauder's Map, "on this."

"That's incredible," the Slytherin said breathlessly. "Did you make this?"

"No," Albus said. "It was my—well, I found it."

"I won't ask," Scorpius said. "You've been tracking Finnigan and Carrow on it?"

"Yes," he said. "But they haven't done anything out of place yet—so I don't know what to do."

"Tell Professor Weasley," Scorpius said. "Just tell him everything you know, even if you won't tell me—"

"No!" Albus shouted. "I told you, Scorpius, I won't."

"You're being stupid," he said, "and a bit of a prick. I never thought you could be as hardheaded as my dad says Potters are." He suddenly realized he shouldn't have said that, so he curled his lips into a smile and said, "Are we getting drunk tonight? I think I can get some hot Ravenclaw fifth years to come over."

"I'd rather not."

"You never want to hang out with girls," Scorpius said. "Makes me wonder a bit."

"Well, it shouldn't," Albus replied. "I like girls—one in particular."

A grin appeared on Scorpius's face. "You have a girlfriend and you didn't tell me any of that? Who is it?"

"Promise you won't be mad?"

"Don't give me a reason to, and I won't."

"It's Cassie."

The room fell silent.

"My sister?" Scorpius whispered.

"That sounds really bad," Albus replied. "You make it sound bad. It's not—it's not a fling, or anything. I really like her. Wouldn't you have me dating her than some other guy you don't even know?"

"I'd rather have no one dating her! She's just a little girl!"

"She'll be fourteen in a month—don't you think she's old enough to make her own choices? To have her own boyfriend—Merlin's socks, Scorpius, you're as much as a git as my dad says Malfoys are."

There was one fluid movement—and Albus suddenly found himself pinned up against the wall, Scorpius's wand at his throat.

"I hope you understand me," he barked. "You will not date Cassie—do you understand?"

Albus looked down at the wand and, feeling a sudden bravado, smiled proudly at the Slytherin. "I think I'll date whoever I please, thanks."

"Petrificus Totalus!" Scorpius shrieked—and Albus was suddenly catipulated to the ground, every limb frozen to his side. Scorpius said nothing, as he put his wand away, picked up his book bag, and left the dormitory.

Albus waited an hour—a good hour, damn that Scorpius—until Avery stumbled into the room, unhexed Albus, and he ran back up to Gryffindor tower, where Oliver sat on his bed, reading a book for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Where have you been?" Oliver sneered, as Albus came into the room. "With the Slytherins?"

And the whole story sort of poured out from there, with Oliver staring at him, wide-eyed.

"He's bad news," Oliver said finally. "I've sad that a lot, Al, haven't I?"

"You have," Albus replied. "I think I need to talk to Cassie."

"Another Malfoy," Oliver replied. "I think you need a clean sweep—cut them both out, you know?"

"I can't do that."

"You have enough friends," Oliver reasoned. "Me, Brendan, Katie, Rose—you have us all, behind you one hundred percent. You don't need Slytherins."

"It's not that I need them," Albus said slowly. "Do you have any idea what happened in the forest last year?"

"You killed Greyback."

"It's more than that," he replied. "You can't share a moment like that with someone and not be friends, you know? He saved my life out there—I really think that. He did the killing curse when I couldn't."

"You could have, though. You know it."

"I wouldn't have," Albus reasoned. "My dad has been fighting dark wizards since he was eleven—and you know what? He's never used a killing curse. Not once. He always told me that it was far braver to not use it. So I won't use it."

"Then what does it even matter? You would have gotten Greyback, Albus, no matter what. You're a damned good wizard, and I hate that you forget that all the time. You're brave as hell."

"I'm not," Albus replied. "I'm not and we both know it. No, I need to talk to Cassie right now. I just wish I knew where she was."

"She has detention," Oliver said. "Katie told me—Cassie, Katie, and Brendan all have detention together."

"What did they do?"

"Mouthed off to Professor Maxwell or something. I don't keep track. They have to go into the forest, though."

"Katie and Brendan are in the forest? Both of them?"

"Yeah. Their detention started at six, I think; they left thirty minutes ago."

"Shit—shit! We have to go after them."

"Why? They'll be okay; they're with Professor Delacour gathering potions ingredients."

Albus said nothing; he was already across the room, digging in his trunk, until he unearthed the Marauder's Map. He scanned it quickly, and saw no dots in the forest, except for Katie Carrow, Brendan Finnigan, Cassiopeia Malfoy, and Gabrielle Delacour. He allowed himself to breathe. Maybe it wasn't tonight?

And then, out of the corner of the map, he saw the thin name—Amycus Carrow, followed closely by Rabastan Lestrange. Damn it. They know the heir is out there. They know it. But where was the rest of them?

"We're going to the forest," Albus said to Oliver. "Let's go."

Oliver said nothing; he set down his book, hopped off the bed, and said, "All right, why not?"

Albus couldn't help but crack a smile at that. "You're not going to ask why?"

Oliver was already buttoning up his cloak, and twiddling his wand between his fingers. "You have your reasons." With a twinkle suddenly appearing in his eye for the first time in months, he grinned and added, "Let's kick some ass."

* * *

Teddy had lit the candle in the center of the table, for dinner with Hot Tiffany—the rather attractive new blonde barwitch from the Three Broomsticks. The house elves had sent up two plates of chicken and scallops, and they sat, ate, as she descended into a thoroughly boring story about how many pairs of shoes she had bought during her last trip to Gladrag's. Teddy wasn't really listening; he was just watching her, anticipating ending the evening with something that didn't require very much talking.

He frowned angrily, as four fists suddenly began pounding on the door—and he contemplated, for a moment, putting a silencing charm around the room. But it could be important—so he stood up, brushed some crumbs off his dress robes, and opened the door.

"We have to go to the forest!" Albus gasped. "It's urgent, Teddy. You have to come with us. It's Cassie—and Brendan and Katie, and—and Gabrielle! They'll all in trouble, grave trouble."

"Slow down, Al," Teddy said. "What's going on?"

Albus thrust out the Marauder's Map, and pointed to the corner—and, without any more words, the three of them left the room, leaving a very confused Roxanna to ponder over her chicken parmesan.

They ran into Filch in the hallway—"Get an owl to Harry Potter right away," Teddy hissed as they ran. "Tell him to come here right away; it's urgent!"—and then they sprinted, completely in silence, across the grounds and to the edge of the forest. Albus strained to look at the map—but it didn't really matter, anyway; he could hear them, he could hear them right nearby. His heart began pounding ferociously inside his chest, harder and harder, as he looked from side to side at Teddy and Oliver, who were both staring straight ahead with stoic courage. But the voices—happy? Yes. It was Gabrielle's voice, giving directions as if nothing was wrong. "These roots, you guys! We need a whole bag full—"

She suddenly looked up, as she saw the three boys come out of the brush. "More for detention, Teddy? You'll have to stay. I'm not looking after five students in the forest, not this late—"

"We have to move," Teddy said. "Quickly. All four of you."

Gabrielle opened her mouth to answer—but no sound came out; instead, the clearing exploded into a burst of piercing white light—and when it subsided, they were surrounded by the Renegade Ten.


	39. Year Four: Chapter Nine

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Three  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
** Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long. It's been crazy around here, but I'm finally done with midterms, so I'll try to keep updating faster.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four  
**_

_**C**__**ha**__**pte**__**r Nine**_

The Ten had their wands drawn, but they were wearing masks and said nothing as they moved closer, enclosing the circle. Albus was standing between Teddy and Cassie now—and Cassie reached out, grabbed his hand. Hers was sweaty. Understandable. Then he saw Teddy and Gabrielle hold out their wands, and he let go of hers, figuring he should follow suit.

"Wands down," shrieked the leader of the Ten—they couldn't see who it was, but they begrudgingly did as he said. "This will be quick and painless for most of you." The leader snapped his fingers, and two figures from his sides intruded into the circle—picking up Katie by both arms.

Gabrielle's hand suddenly lurched upwards, and she hissed, "Crucio!" The figure on Katie's left side fell to the ground—but he was back up in an instant, before Katie could break away, and Gabrielle was suddenly on her back.

"Lestrange," hollered the leader at the man she had cursed. "You like blondes, don't you? And revenge? I'll leave her for you."

The two shrouded figures deposited Katie at the leader's feet, and then Lestrange stood up, nodding frantically. The leader cackled tremendously, and he removed his hood—and it was Fenrir Greyback. Albus stepped back in horror, his mouth clapping to his hand instinctively. He felt sick, like he would throw up at any second. How could it be? They had seen him die! They had killed him. How—how on earth could this have happened? How could he be alive? It had to be a trick, a joke—something.

"It makes it hard, doesn't it?" Greyback sneered, coming within inches of Albus's face. "To know that your bout of heroism was part of the plan all along? To kill a decoy—some kid we found on the streets of Hogsmeade—and telling the world that Fenrir Greyback was finally gone." He grinned—but his smile quickly turned to anger, and he spat in Albus's face. Albus stood there—a reaction is what the bastard would have wanted, and he wasn't about to give it. Greyback continued, "You bought me the gift of time, Potter. They all stopped looking for me—and I could go about my business, finding the King Stone." His smile returned. "And now, you can tell the whole world that I'm still here—that you didn't do anything but kill some scared Muggle kid we fed Polyjuice Potion—and that they shall all fear what they did to my kind." He took a step back, and turned to Katie, who was kneeling on the ground, but she was glaring up at Greyback, refusing to submit, despite the weight of the wizards holding her down. Greyback threw an amulet on a long gold chain around her neck. "In this girl," he said to his nine followers, "runs the blood of the murdered Dark Lord himself—his last living descendant. And with this sacrifice, his powers will be on our side, inside that amulet—and we shall become invincible, ready to fight on the side of good, and truth, and equality." He waved his wand, and Katie was hurtled against a nearby tree, tied up with feet of rope, unable to move anything but her head, and that only from side to side.

Greyback had finished taunting Katie, and then turned back to the group.

"Kill them all," he said suddenly, "but let me deal with the Carrow girl. The King Stone has to be the one to kill her." And he began muttering some sort of incantation, in Gobbledegook or Mermish or something—Albus didn't recognize the language. But he knew there wasn't much time—for anyone, as a curse sailed over his shoulder.

The circle was dispersed suddenly—and he could see, from where he stood, Gabrielle, magically pinned up against a tree and screaming, as Lestrange, with a look of malicious intent on his face, began tearing at her robes with his nails, like he was some sort of deranged animal, and smothered her body with his. Albus couldn't bear to look any more, watching her, helpless, and so he turned the other way, and there was Teddy holding off three shrouded figures, dueling with them—but there wasn't time to watch; Brendan was right next to him, and there were two figures approaching them. One of them lifted his wand, pointed it at Brendan, and yelled "Crucio." But Albus was faster—not with his wand, but he took a giant leap, dove in front of the curse. He didn't know why he did it--he didn't really have time to think about that, as he fell to the ground.

And it was more pain than Albus ever imagined could exist. He felt like his head was being torn in half—pounding, pulsating, and he vomited, all over the ground, all over the front of his robes, but he could scarcely even notice. He told himself mentally to snap out of it—but he couldn't. He wasn't in control. He looked up, through his foggy, tear-strewn, stinging eyes, his glasses lost somewhere in the mess. They were entertained—the two figures. Brendan was gone, crouched behind a shrub near Greyback, frantically trying to figure out how to free Katie without being seen.

The pain subsided—and there was Teddy, standing over two of the stunned Ten; the men he had been dueling had run off into the forest.

"Are you all right?" Teddy said. "Get up—go help Oliver." And he disappeared, running over to Gabrielle, who was standing there, against the tree, naked and with her usually-neat blonde hair messy, as she clawed violently, desperately, at Lestrange, still screaming as he grabbed her wrists and attempted to make her stand still.

Oliver was up a tree—literally; he was on the top branch of a willow, about fifteen feet in the air, hiding behind a growth of leaves, sticking his head out every few seconds, to send a curse down at the three wizards on the ground. Out of the four of them, no one was hitting anything; the leaves were deflecting the curses from the three Renegade wizards, and Oliver, balancing on the branch, couldn't aim properly.

Albus contemplated going from behind them—but then he realized he didn't have his wand. He spun around a bit, looking for it—and looking for Cassie. But he didn't see her, anywhere. Where was she? Dead? Worse? He thought of Gabrielle, and he bit his lip, hoping that she wasn't also being—no, can't even say the word. He reached for his wand, but it had fallen; it was somewhere on the ground—but he couldn't see anything; he couldn't find his glasses either, and it was so dark. He was paralyzed, helpless. I'm going to die here, he thought, and he contemplated running away—he really did; he was useless, after all. But then he saw Brendan, standing behind Greyback—who didn't seem to notice his presence, he was so involved in his incantation, saying it faster, more rushed, as he kept checking the skies. Albus looked up, too—the Ministry would be there soon, wouldn't they? What was taking his dad so long?

Brendan saw Albus, and he mouthed something indistinguishable; without his glasses, Albus could barely see his mouth moving.

Greyback finished the incantation, and yelled, "Sectumsempra!" and Katie was suddenly shrieking with pain, writhing as much as she could in her ropes, as he conducted her merrily with his wand, like an orchestra director, her blood shooting everywhere—and the King Stone suddenly turned a bright red; her blood was flowing into it. There was no stopping it. She was going to die, killed by the King Stone, and used for whatever purpose Greyback intended—until Brendan raised his wand, pointed it at Katie, and, with more strength and fortitude than Albus ever thought Brendan could muster, he gritted his teeth and shouted, "Avada Kedavra."

There was a flash of green—and she fell limp, and the King Stone stopped glowing., and fell to the ground Brendan stood there, quivering, barely able to hold his wand. Greyback ripped the King Stone off her neck and spun around with a look of fury on his gaunt face. "How dare you," he spat. "I ought to kill—" And then he looked into Brendan's eyes, and Albus didn't know what he saw there, but Greyback only took a deep, sharp sigh, and then pointed his wand at Brendan. "Crucio."

Brendan fell to the ground, twitching madly—but within seconds, the sky was littered with broomsticks suddenly and, with a quick crack, all of the Renegade Ten disappeared. It was so surreal, that this place had been a bloodbath just a second before—it had suddenly become a crime scene, empty, devoid of any of the Dark wizards. Oliver jumped down from the tree, and he was untying Katie's bloody, lifeless body, as quick as he could, as if there could be a chance she was still alive. She wasn't. She was dead.

And across the clearing, Albus could barely see what was happening—but he could make out Gabrielle, wrapped haphazardly in Teddy's cloak, stumbling towards him, wrapping her hands around his neck, and sobbing into his shoulders.

Albus looked around frantically. The Ten couldn't just leave—not like that. That's not how it was supposed to happen. They weren't supposed to get away. And, he thought, as he looked around, we weren't supposed to be defeated.


	40. Year Four: Chapter Ten

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Four  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2020 to June 2021  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.  
**Author's Note:** It's been forever since I updated this story--my apologies. I've gotten the occasional request to update it, and coming off inspiration from the new movie, here's two new chapters. Hopefully people are still reading this after almost two years since I started--can't believe it's been that long!

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Four**_

_**Chapter Ten**_

In the ensuing month, Albus didn't know which hurt him more—the fact that they lost Katie, or the fact that he hadn't talked to the Malfoys at all, not even in passing. Cassie had run away that night—eluded the Renegade Ten, and went back to the castle. She had alerted Charlie, at least, when she returned—but that wasn't enough, in Albus's mind. She should have stayed there, she should have stayed and fought with them; she should have been prepared to make the sacrifice that Katie did. As such, they were broken up—even though they hadn't spoken to each other about any of that. Cassie had tried, once, to explain herself—but Albus had no desire to listen to her. Sure, she was scared. They had all been scared. Katie, more than anyone, had been scared—but they didn't run away. They stayed, and they fought. He didn't even have a wand, or vision—but he stayed when he saw what Greyback was doing to his friends. He stayed, damn it, and she should have, too. So they didn't talk. And Scorpius was happy about that, too. Albus thought, way down deep, Scorpius would have gotten over Albus and Cassie dating. He could even have been okay with it, eventually. But now, Scorpius was too convinced that Albus would endanger her—and he wouldn't even look at Albus. And that hurt. It hurt really bad. But Albus got over it—he still had Oliver, and Brendan, and Rose, and everyone else.

"You know," Rose said stiffly, as she filled her glass with pumpkin juice, "I really wish you had come and told me what you were doing. I would've liked to be there."

"You didn't want to be there," Brendan said slowly. "No—it's better you didn't go." He gave a bit of a shutter, and Albus looked at him. He didn't look good—he was sickly, and pale, and much thinner. He blamed himself for Katie's death, even as much as they tried to tell him he did the right thing, that his instincts were correct; Greyback would've killed Katie anyway, undoubtedly, and it was of utmost important that they keep the King Stone from absorbing her blood—and, even if they failed in that and the King Stone did absorb enough, Brendan saved her from suffering. It was better for her to go like that, quick and painless—to have the life simply wiped from her body, than to bleed to death, tied to a tree, as part of Greyback's sadistic game. But Brendan wasn't convinced, and he still felt guilty—and Albus, for the second time this year, was worried about him. He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping—he wasn't really doing much of anything; his skin had turned musky gray again, and he had lost even more weight.

Albus didn't understand that, as he piled food onto his plate. He felt guilty, too, but that didn't mean he shut down. He had other responsibilities; Katie wouldn't have wanted them to dwell on her memory, to feel guilty—and Albus, especially, should feel guilty. That was his biggest regret, really, that he never told her what he had done to her father before she died. He always assumed he'd get around to it, someday—but the moment had passed, and he would take it to his grave.

* * *

Teddy was supposed to be brave. And he was; he had done brave things in his twenty-three years. But he didn't feel brave anymore. He didn't feel brave at all. He thought of Harry, often—aged eleven, coming face-to-face with Voldemort, and destroying a Horcrux at age twelve, and dueling with Voldemort at fourteen. And here Teddy was at twenty-three, and he hadn't done any of that. Hell, he couldn't do any of that now, even if he wanted to. He was helpless; he was no Harry Potter, and it was probably just luck that he got away from Greyback.

No, he thought quickly. Greyback is no brilliant wizard—but now, perhaps? There was no way to tell how much blood the King Stone required to function—a drop, perhaps, or a whole body full? They had killed Katie, stopped her bleeding, midway through, but now they didn't know if her blood was inside or not. And that made all the difference; Greyback as Greyback was one thing, but Greyback with Voldemort's powers—well, that was another.

There was a knock on his door, and Teddy went to answer it.

It was Gabrielle.

"Harry said I could come right up," she said. "Can I come in?"

He nodded, stepped aside.

Neither of them spoke.

"Surely you can think of something to say to me," she said.

"I want to know if you're all right, then."

"I'm fine," she replied, not too convincingly. "I wasn't actually—well, you know."

"He attempted," he grunted. "It's about the same."

Gabrielle said nothing; she just tightened her coat a bit, around her slender frame, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. "I just wanted to thank you," she said. "I don't think I ever got to—not properly, I mean."

"I know you're thankful," he replied. "But I don't deserve thanks. I let him get away."

"He disapparated," she said, "like a coward. He's not worth your time."

"He hurt you," Teddy replied. "He's worth my time."

She said nothing; she just pressed her hand to his chest, then stepped backwards, collapsing onto the loveseat at the foot of the bed. She looked a bit pale, like she was about to faint—but she breathed deeply a few times, and the color came back to her face.

"Because you're in love with me?" she asked slowly.

"Is that a problem?"

"No," she replied, with a grin. "I kind of like it."


	41. Year Five: Chapter One

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Five  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2021 to June 2022  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Five**_

_**Chapter One**_

"Two months, Neville," Teddy said, pacing around his parlor. He had moved to new quarters this year; Gabrielle's old one. He was surprised at the abilities of the suite; there were two rooms, a bedroom and a parlor, and when he entered, the dainty French furniture that Gabrielle so preferred had morphed before his very eyes; the little white silk chaise became a brown leather sofa, flanked by two green suede club chairs formed out of the slender high-back chairs. The bed, too, was no longer a four-poster with a light pink canopy—and Teddy was thankful for that—but it was, instead, a redwood sleigh bed with a black bedspread. The walls, too, weren't baby blue, but a dark gold, warm and masculine. Teddy loved the place.

"Two months," Neville repeated. "That's not that long, Teddy. Sex can be very emotional for a woman—or so I hear." He went a bit pink.

"You're not a—I mean, you've done—"

"Of course I have," he snapped. "But thank you for thinking I could be forty and still that pathetic." He shook his head. "Two months. Well, I've gone longer. Then again, I've had so many dry spells I've desertified."

"But this is me! No, this is me and Gabrielle, for Merlin's sake! We've known each other forever, and we've already said we love each other!"

"So you love each other," Neville replied slowly. "You just haven't made love."

"Witty," Teddy snapped. "Really freaking witty, Neville—did I tell you that's why I keep you around?"

"I always thought it was for the warm smile and wise advice," Neville replied. "Such as this: maybe she just doesn't like to sleep with guys on the first few dates."

They both looked at each other and laughed at that idea; it was Gabrielle they were talking about.

Neville continued, "Or maybe it's because you were engaged to her niece—or hell, maybe it's because she was raped two months ago by some escaped convict."

Teddy fell quiet. A valid point. A very valid point.

The door opened—Gabrielle.

"Wow," she said, surveying the parlor. "It's like a girl never even lived here."

"You should see the bedroom," Neville offered.

She looked to him, then looked at Teddy, and glared at them both. "I'm all set, thanks." She hitched a smile back onto her face. "I can't wait for both of you to see my new place, though! It's beautiful."

"It's still not as nice as mine," Neville replied.

"Sorry, we can't all be Deputy Headmaster," she snapped. "But it's such an improvement over this hole." She looked to Teddy. "No offense. Hell, this sure beats your one room."

"Who's getting my old room, anyway, Neville?" Teddy asked.

Neville grinned. "Charlie hasn't told you who the new Astronomy professor is yet?"

"He hasn't told anyone," Gabrielle chimed. "That's why we go to you, Neville. You're the best source—and you're easier to crack than a flobberworm egg."

"Flattering."

"Flobberworms don't lay eggs," Teddy replied.

"Way to focus on the big picture, Lupin," Gabrielle answered, giving him a playful punch on the arm, followed by a quick kiss on the cheek.

Neville cleared his throat. "Since you asked—the new professor is Romilda Vane."

"I'm speechless," Teddy said slowly. "And not in a good way."

"Romilda—Romilda Vane?" Gabrielle repeated. "Are you sure you said that right?"

Neville shrugged. "No, it's her, all right. I saw her leave Charlie's office."

"Has he gone completely mental?" Teddy asked.

Neville shrugged again. "He said he promised George he'd look after her—I mean, you heard the rumors, didn't you?"

"What rumors?" asked Gabrielle.

"About Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," he said. "My uncle Algie is on their Board of Directors—and he says they're not doing so well. The chairman, Evan Rossier, resigned, skipped the country. Uncle Algie says it'll be a miracle if they don't go under. And Romilda—well, she's under investigation. Frozen assets and all—and she needs the money, Angelina Johnson—you know, George's first wife—is challenging his will, claiming she still deserves alimony, and that her and George's surviving daughter, Roxanne, deserves a larger share of the inheritance than she got, and that Romilda deserves nothing—certainly not the entire estate—because she was apparently a homewrecker and a terrible stepmother to Fred and Roxanne. But Charlie's confident the Wizengamot will throw out all the suits against her anyway." He paused, cracked his neck. "But I don't like to gossip."

There was a knock on the door, and Teddy scrambled to open it. Charlie stood there, dressed in his best robes but looking a little exasperated.

"I need all of you down in the faculty common room," he said. "I want to introduce you to the new professor." He looked to Neville, then back to Teddy and Gabrielle, and seeing their faces, said, "Ah. Neville—always good with a secret?"

"It wasn't a big secret," he said defensively.

The door opened again, and Romilda strolled in, dressed in velvet robes of metallic silver, a white fur stole wrapped around her shoulders. "Charlie, darling—there you are. There's a bit of a problem with my room."

"No—no!" he gasped. "Don't tell me the doxies are back. Hagrid got rid of them weeks ago!"

"It's not that," she said silkily, hitching a pressed smile onto her pretty face. "It's rather interesting, though, isn't it? I distinctly remember requesting a lake-view apartment—and one with multiple rooms, at that. Why, there isn't even room for my piano in the shoebox you have me in!"

Charlie sighed loudly, shot a look back to Neville, Teddy, and Gabrielle, then turned back to Romilda. "I told you how we do things here; quarters are given out by seniority."

"You're the newest professor," Teddy chimed, practically giddy, "and so you get the little room in the corner. I was there last year; it isn't that bad."

"And you're just a young boy," she replied. Wringing her voice with fresh sweetness, she said, "You could go back there, couldn't you, sweetheart?"

"Not a chance in hell," he answered flatly. "But you'll be quite at home there."

"Charlie!" she gasped. "As a Governor of Hogwarts, I demand better quarters. Do you hear me? I have the power to remove you from office. I have Draco Malfoy in my pocket. In my pocket!" She smiled again, this time a bit menacingly. "I must go send an owl." And with a swift sweep of silver robe, she left the room, leaving Charlie scrambling after her.

* * *

"So—she's new," Oliver said, eyeing a girl Albus had never seen before. She was immaculately dressed in neatly-pressed Hogwarts robes, and quite attractive—with long blonde hair, quite curly but still reaching the bottom of her shoulder blades, and two hazel eyes, darting across the common room. She sat alone, pretending unsuccessfully to read a book, but really watching the sea of strangers walk around her. "She can't be a first year, can she? Unless she got hit with an engorgement charm in her particularly lucky chest."

Rose was not amused. "She's fifteen—well, she'll be sixteen tomorrow. Isn't that a shame, your birthday being on September 2nd? You'd have to wait a whole year to attend Hogwarts."

"She's in our year?" Brendan asked.

"She's my roommate," Rose replied. "Katie's replacement—" Her voice went dead, and the three of them looked at each other, unaware about what exactly they should say. Rose cleared her throat and continued, "Well, no, I mean, she's taking Katie's bedspace."

"What's her name?" Oliver asked.

"Marina Bruxaria."

Oliver rubbed his hands together. "Exotic. Where's she from?"

"Brazil," Rose replied boredly. "Portuguese father, English mother. Her dad wanted her to go to that magic school in Brazil, what's-its-name—and she did, but she hated it. And then the opening at Hogwarts came, and she jumped at the chance." She paused, thought for a moment, then continued. "You can do better than her, Oliver."

"Why?"

"She's a shallow bitch. All she does is talk about Brazil and dance and how all of her friends are models."

"This coming from the girl who loves everybody," Brendan interjected.

"Wait, wait," Oliver said. "Let me get this straight. She's from Brazil—and she's a dancer with hot model friends?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Leave it to you to interpret it like that."

"I'm going to talk to her," he announced.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Albus said, pointing discreetly at the girl. Oliver turned around, and his smile fell almost immediately; James kneeling next to Marina, smiling sexily at her, his arm draped lazily around the back of her chair. Flirting. That bastard.

"They'll be dating within the week," Rose said, suddenly becoming quite a bit more cheerful.

"You never know," Oliver replied slowly. "Sure, she's smiling and flirting on the outside, but I'm sure on the inside, she's just calling out, 'Oliver, Oliver!'"

Rose snorted loudly, and he glared at her, and then at Brendan and Albus, as they both began to laugh.

"James happens to hit on every attractive girl," Oliver continued. "I mean, he'd hit on you if you weren't related to him."

"You think I'm attractive?" she grinned.

"I mean—you're okay."

She fanned herself sarcastically, and then said, in a giddy, high-pitched voice, wrought with scorn, "Oh, Oliver! You're so charming! Save some of it for Marina, would you?"

Oliver wasn't listening; he was leaning on the back of the chair, waiting for James to leave Marina—which he did, a few seconds later. Oliver waved him over, and James sat down on the arm of Albus's chair.

"What's the story on her?" Oliver asked. "Do you like her? Are you two dating now?"

"Down, boy," James replied. "We're going out to Madam Puddifoot's during the first Hogsmeade weekend. That's not a problem, is it, Wood?"

"No," he said gloomily. "I'll just find some girl whose heart you broke last year."

With a grin, James said, "There's quite a few, I'll tell you. How about Tara Morgan? She just got dumped by Niles Creevey, and the word is she's desperate and lonely. I'm thinking cha-ching!"

Rose shook her head, then threw one of her books at him, and it hit him in the arm. He grinned at her, stuck out his tongue playfully, and then clapped Albus on the shoulder. "The real question," he continued, "is who we're going to get for Albus."

Albus turned a bit red, and suddenly became very interested in his book.

"Leave him alone," Oliver said. "He's still missing Cassie Malfoy."

"Oh, Cassie!" James shrieked, in a high falsetto that Albus decided sounded absolutely nothing like him. "Oh, Cassie, I love you!" Albus slammed his book shut, and walked back up to his dormitory without looking behind, towards the cackling laughs of James, Brendan, and Oliver.


	42. Year Five: Chapter Two

**Title:** _Hogwarts, Class of 2024: Year Five  
_**Setting: **Hogwarts; September 2021 to June 2022  
**Summary: **Albus Potter and Rose Weasley find their own way in the world during their seven years at Hogwarts, taught by Professors Neville Longbottom, Gabrielle Delacour, and Teddy Lupin.

**Hogwarts, Class of 2024**  
_**Year Five**_

_**Chapter Two  
**_

"All right, men," James said, pacing the locker rooms. "Our numbers are down. Way down." He motioned to the three other remaining Gryffindor Quidditch players: Edgecombe, Oliver, and Albus.

"We're going to need another chaser, another beater, and a keeper. Big shoes to fill. And Edgie and I are leaving after this year. You know what that means, don't you?" There was silence, so he shook his head, and then said, "Hell, you guys. It means that you're it. And since you're so damned clueless, it also means I have to put together a good team that will weather the storms that the years may bring in—"

Edgecombe rolled his eyes. "We should just go outside. There's loads of people waiting."

James glared at the beater, but finally shrugged, and the four of them went outside. The stands were packed—they had won the cup last year, after all. James frowned; it was going to take all afternoon. But then he smiled, when he saw Marina Bruxaria wearing Quidditch robes from the Brazil National Team, holding a broomstick high in the air.

The tryouts dragged; there were some supremely awful people this year. But, in between the fat Gryffindors who could barely get their broomsticks off the ground, and the mousey girl who smacked James in the face with the quaffle, there were a few good ones. James whittled it down to Evan Dursley as the keeper, and Lily Potter as their third chaser—in what was rapidly shaping up to be an all-Potter team. But, then again, James couldn't help that the Potters were blessed with winning looks, captivating charm, and athletic ability.

The problems arose, however, to fill the spot of beater. Brian Prewitt, a burly fourth-year, was pretty good—not amazing but, perhaps, with training, he could be a good partner for Edgecombe. And then there was Marina, who wasn't quite as good as Prewitt, and didn't quite have the natural ability—but damn, was she beautiful. And it didn't help simplify the decision when Marina planted a quick kiss on James's lips before beginning her tryout. It was really a question of fairness. He should give it to the better man, even if that meant losing out on dating Marina.

He practically laughed at that thought, and ran off to tell Marina she was the new beater.

* * *

Teddy and Gabrielle, later that day, were lying in Teddy's bed, listening to a serial drama on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Teddy wasn't listening to the serial—that was Gabrielle's thing, anyway. He had his face firmly planted behind Dances with Werewolves—a book that he wasn't reading, because his eyes were focused, rather discreetly, on Gabrielle, as she listened to the show and filed her nails. He mentioned the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers under the covers, which resulted in only a mumble of interest from Gabrielle. He went back to his book, and pretended to read several more pages.

Finally, he couldn't take it; he slammed his book shut, and turned to her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her close, so that their faces were only inches apart.

"Merlin's pants—were you planning on having sex with me ever?" And then he felt embarrassed, so he let her recoil, and then fell back himself onto his pillow, closing his eyes delicately. "Goodnight."

"No, wait," she said, shaking him. "I'm sorry—what did you just ask me?"

He propped himself up on his elbow. "I feel like we're an old married couple, you know? One of the couples that just doesn't have sex anymore. Except, to be an old married couple, you had to have sex at one point in your lives, and we don't even have that. So we're not old or married. We're just celibate—and I feel like a fucking priest." He sat up, raising his voice a bit more forcefully. "Let's not lie; we're both whores. You know it, and I know it. You've slept with a lot of guys, and I've slept with a lot of girls. Hell, I think we could populate Hogwarts with the people we've slept with because we're both that easy and that horny and that desperate for companionship. When I was at Hogwarts, people would say I would fuck anything female and on two legs. And you know what? They were right! So that makes it all the more baffling and mind-boggling that I have finally found a girl that I am head-over-heels in love with, and I want nothing more than to show her what I do best—but she won't give it up. Why the hell won't you give it up?"

She had already hopped out of bed, tied her silk dressing gown around her waist. "Go fuck yourself, Lupin." And then she slammed the door. He knew she was serious, too, because he could hear her footsteps racing down the spiral staircase. He leapt up, swimming across the mound of sheets and comforters, and made it to the door, racing down the dark staircase and through the parlor, nearly at her heels as she ripped open the front door and ran out into the corridor.

He stopped, grabbing onto his doorframe, and watched her go. "You know what?" he shouted after her. "I wish I could fuck myself, Gabrielle, because then I wouldn't have to waste every night trying to squeeze a drop of sex drive out from my girlfriend!"

A few doors had opened, their sleepy occupants poking their heads to see the latest drama. Teddy was aware that Gabrielle was no longer in the hallway, but he still was—wearing nothing but underwear—and so he quickly skulked back into his suite. Before the door could close, Neville grabbed the edge of it, and forced his way into the room, wearing a long yellow nightshirt with a matching cap.

"Cute getup," Teddy said, throwing himself down on the couch. "How are you still single, Neville, with pajamas like that?"

Neville quickly removed the cap, and shoved it in his pocket, then sat down next to Teddy. "For your information, Gram made them for me for my birthday. And it's funny you should mention me being single—because it seems that now I have a traveling companion on that lonely road, don't I? Maybe next time you'll listen to crazy old Neville."

"We're not going to break up," Teddy replied. "It's me and Gabrielle; we're not going to break up."

The door opened again, and Gabrielle stood there.

"See?" Teddy said, pointing to her. "We're not breaking up." He paused for a second. "Are we?"

"No, we're not," she replied coldly, crossing her arms. She gave a thin smirk. "I kind of like you, Lupin."

"I kind of like you, too," he grinned, standing up and walking over to her. He put his hands on the wall on either side of her, leaned in, and kissed her. "Don't walk out on me again, Gabrielle—because if you ever leave me, I don't know what the hell I'd do."

"And how many girls have you used that line on before?" she asked. "Since you're so easy and all."

"You're the first. And you'll be the last."

The door opened again. "Goodnight, you two," Neville grinned—and then, there was a flash of his yellow pajamas and he disappeared out the door. Teddy closed it, locked it, then turned back to Gabrielle.

"I want to talk to you," he said. "Because you're not ready, and I need to know why."

A wave of silence filled the air, until Gabrielle slowly spoke, her voice meek and faraway. "I'm with you for all the wrong reasons."

Not what he wanted to hear. "No!" he gasped.

"I'm—I'm with you because I'm afraid," she continued. "I'm afraid of being alone, but I'm even more afraid of not being alone, and then meeting someone, and have him—" She shuttered, and turned her head away. "I'm pretty fucked up, Lupin, after all I've been through."

"No you're not. You're perfect." He reached out to grab her hand, but she snatched it away.

"You need someone who can be with you. Who can really commit to you. And a year ago, I could have. I could have really loved you, Teddy, but I've been using you to keep myself from facing—anything. I've been using you as a shield, and that isn't fair to either of us."

He didn't say anything; he just pursed his lips into a thin sort of grimace, and stood there in silence. Finally, in a rather businesslike way, he managed to croak out, "All right. So now what?"

"Don't hate me, please," she said. "You're my best friend, and I do love you. I just—we can't. This can't happen right now."

He nodded a bit, not in acceptance but just because he felt like he had to move some part of his body. A thousand questions were flashing through his mind, one after another, but he finally picked one out to say. "Did you—did you ever love me, Gabrielle? Romantically?"

She took a step forward, kissed him on the corner of his cheek, right next to his lips, and lingered there for a moment, as if contemplating more—Teddy sure hoped she was--but she just took a step back, and said, "I'll always love you, Ted."

* * *

The only thing that woke Teddy up was the school bell. He realized that he had fallen asleep between classes, wedged in the tiny wooden chair at his desk, and was now looking at a room full of fifth years. He sat up, cleared his throat, and opened his book—but the letters dissolved into a monochrome paisley, and he finally just decided this wasn't going to work, and dismissed the class. Lacking the strength to get out of his chair, he laid his head back down on the desk, finding a particularly soft corner of the textbook to rest his brow.

"Rough night?" Albus asked.

Teddy sat up, gave a sly smile, and said, "I shouldn't tell you." He paused. "All right, since we're practically family. Gabrielle and I broke up last night."

"Because she won't sleep with you?"

"What—where'd you hear that from?"

"Grandma talks."

Teddy's ears turned red, and he sunk back into the chair. "Lovely. Thank you for your discretion around my students, Molly. And no, it wasn't that. It was a bunch of things, really—" He forced his face into an uncomfortable grin. "So, what'd you need, Al?"

"I needed to ask your advice on something."

"School or other?"

"Other."

He leaned back in his chair. "All right—shoot."

"How—how long did it take you to get over Victoire? Assuming you didn't kiss Gabrielle and all on the platform that day."

Teddy grinned. "That was a fun day, wasn't it? But, I mean, you saw me that summer, didn't you? Hell, most of last year. I was a wreck. Not all of that was from Vicky, of course, but some of it was. We dated for—how long, since the beginning of my fifth year? That's—" He counted on his fingers. "About six years, isn't it? Shit. I didn't notice it was that long."

"But you're over her now."

"Right," he said. "I think I reached the point where I realized she wasn't my soul mate after all. And her dumping me was the best thing that ever happened, because I found Gabrielle." His voice trailed off, but then he hitched a grin back on his face. "So—Cassie Malfoy you're talking about."

Albus's face turned pink, and he shuffled a bit uncomfortably. "Yes."

"Love sucks," Teddy said. "It really does, especially when you're fifteen, because everything can change in an instant. Did you know that your dad was in love with Professor Maxwell when he was your age? Or that I was in love with Victoire? What I mean to say—well, things are going to change for you, and you're going to meet a lot of girls. And Cassie—hell, do you really think she was the one? Of course not. If you had stayed together, you would've just wasted a few more years before you decided you had no future. That's what happened to me and Victoire, right? So forget her. She's in the past. You need to find someone else."

* * *

"For the thousandth time, no!" Charlie gasped. "Do you realize you have come in here, every single day, for the last three weeks? You've wasted my time, and you wasted yours because I'm not going to give you a better room. So drop it. We're done."

Romilda pursed her lips delicately. "I figure it's only a matter of time before I grow to bother you so much that you'll just do what I say."

"You already bother me," Charlie replied, scratching his arm. "You have some nerve coming in here, you know? You weren't an easy sell to the Board of Governors, you know? I think you were the only Governor who actually thought your appointment was a good idea—considering you know next to nothing about Astronomy. I should fire you right now, you know that? Just for being so bloody annoying."

"Your desk is bloody."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"No—literally, I mean."

Charlie looked down, saw that he had scratched off a rather large scab, that was oozing small streams of blood onto the desk. "Oh. Thanks." He reached for gauze, which he kept in the top desk drawer, as she reached forward with her wand, tapped the scab, and—nothing happened.

"That's a dragon scratch," she said slowly. She withdrew her wand, realizing magic would be futile for that sort of thing. "I thought you visited Durmstrang last weekend."

"Busted by a Governor, I guess," he said lazily. "I was invited to an exhibition back in Romania—by my old team, you know, from when I was a dragon keeper. They captured a Khmer Rouge Razorback from Cambodia—the rarest dragon out there—and my curiosity got the best of me." He held up his arm. "And I'm getting a bit slow with my old age, it seems."

"You're not old."

"Late forties? I'm getting up there."

Romilda said nothing; she just held her hand listlessly in the air, and began to play with her large diamond engagement ring. She looked back up at him, studied him for a moment, then said, "You miss it, don't you?"

"It's fine," he replied. "I've been at Hogwarts for over a decade now. I got used to it."

"Would you ever go back?"

He smiled. "Who would wrangle all of you professors if I were to leave? You're all harder than a herd of dragons, really."

"Why—why did you come to Hogwarts?"

"Because of women," he grinned. "My mum hated me working abroad, and I had met this girl in Romania—a Brit, on holiday. And they both wanted me back in the UK—so I did what they wanted."

"Which girl?"

"That's not important," he said. "She's gone now. We broke our engagement."

"Both of you?"

"More or less," he replied, looking down at the floor. His eyes suddenly snapped back up to Romilda. "All right, Professor Vane; it's time for you to go now, I think."

* * *

There was a knock on the door to Teddy's quarters the next morning. He opened it, and Gabrielle stood there.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." He paused. He was going to let her talk—but then he decided he wanted to talk. "Hey, look, I love you. I miss you. I want to be with you, and I'm not going to take no for an answer." She opened her mouth to talk. He shook his head. "Use me as a shield—pretend you don't love me. You are afraid. You're afraid to be with me, to feel things for me—and I don't care. I'm going to love the shit out of you, no matter what you think."

"I—I just came to get my hairbrush," she said slowly. "It's on your dresser, and I—"

He leaned in, kissed her lips, sucked out the rest of her sentence. He pulled back after a few seconds. "It's me. It's me. You have to separate me from—from what happened. You have to know that when I kiss you, it's because I love you. And when I touch you, it's because we want to—because you want me to. You have to trust me—you have to know I'm never going to let anything bad happen to you, that I'm going to keep you safe forever."

She leaned in this time, kissed him. "I want you."

"It's not about sex," he said. "It's about—we don't ever have to have sex, Gabrielle, if you don't want to."

"I want you," she repeated, her face breaking into a slight, sly smile. "I want you. I've decided."

"You don't have to. What I said before—I'm stupid. I'm an insensitive jackass."

"You are stupid," she said. "And you are an insensitive jackass. And I don't care what you say. You don't even get a say, Lupin. I want you right now."

* * *


End file.
